


Last Thing Left To Lose

by SylvieW



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A/B/O verse, Alpha Derek, Endgame Sterek, Fluff, Happy Ending, How Exactly Does the Legal System Work?, Kidnapping, M/M, Mates, Omega Stiles, Protective Derek, Scott is a Pretty Good Friend, alpha pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-14 00:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10524822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvieW/pseuds/SylvieW
Summary: Derek's pack kidnaps Stiles and his friends for reasons unknown. Things don’t go as planned, and Stiles and Derek make an unexpected connection that changes their lives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Will be updating about twice a week until I'm finished editing. Enjoy!

*********

Isaac went for Scott. It was easy enough to engage him in a discussion about lacrosse, slide closer until he could plunge the syringe into his side. The look of hurt and betrayal on Scott’s face before he passed out was less easy. 

Boyd got Lydia. He was used to being ignored by people, and she was used to ignoring, so they were a perfect match. He walked right up to her and pressed the soaked rag to her face. Her nails scraped his arm on the way down like talons, but they healed before he left the building. He had more than enough time to do the same thing with Jackson, but this time with a needle full of wolfsbane.

Erica had some trouble with Stiles. She was trying to be subtle and use the rag like Boyd had, but Stiles never stopped moving. She ended up stealing his carburetor instead, and when he got out of the jeep to see why it wouldn’t start she hit him in the face with it. She felt bad about that, but hopefully he wouldn’t remember when he woke up. Hopefully he wouldn’t remember any of this.

Derek was left with Allison. Her father had trained her well, and he nearly didn’t manage. Desperation does funny things to a person, though, and he pinned her down through sheer force of will, ignoring the way she kicked and scratched until her body went limp. The stillness was far more terrifying than her struggles had been.

***

Scott came to first. He yanked against the ropes tying him to a pillar in the center of a dark, musty cavernous room. Neither the ropes nor the pole would budge. Jackson groaned next to him, and as soon as he regained consciousness he tried the same thing as Scott, without any more success.

The other three followed soon after, Lydia with huff of irritation, Allison with a groan, and Stiles with a stream of curses that would make a sailor blush. Scott checked in with each of them to make sure they were okay while he took in the details of the room. There wasn’t much. He thought they must be in a warehouse of some kind. There was a towering wall of crates in front of him, blocking off the rest of the room. The murky glow around them suggested there was a window behind him.

They told each other about how they’d been kidnapped and determined that they knew their attackers from school. Except Allison. She thought he was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place how.

“Why would they do this?” Stiles asked. “What could they possibly gain from it?”

“Derek,” Isaac said from beside the crates. “They’re awake.”

Scott watched Isaac closely as they waited. He couldn’t help but growl when Derek appeared beside them. He didn’t recognize him, so this must be the one who’d hurt Allison.

Derek approached with a flashlight, shining the pin prick into each of their eyes. When he got to Stiles, he paused. “Why is there a bruise?”

“I had to improvise,” Erica said from the makeshift doorway. “He’s fine though, right?”

Scott heard Stiles hiss in pain and let out a human growl of his own.

“Stop poking me,” Stiles said.

“Hold still,” Derek growled back at him. “Isaac come here.”

Isaac gave the group a wide berth even though they were all tied up, and Scott thought, _Good. You should be scared._

He listened as Derek walked Isaac through taking Stiles’ pain. His commands were brisk, but his simple “good work,” made up for it. Alphas were weird, and Scott never understood why words of praise from one of them felt so much better than from a beta or omega.

Derek left as soon as they were finished with Stiles. Isaac looked over his shoulder frowning deeply as he followed after him. 

“We need to get out of here,” Scott said.

“No shit,” Jackson growled.

“Not helpful, jackass,” Stiles said. 

Lydia cut in before they could start snipping at each other. “Can we focus on a plan instead of bitching, please?”

That was easier said than done. They didn’t know much about their surroundings beyond what they could see. Derek and his pack had made sure to take any phones and weapons they had on them, including Allison’s necklace as an extra precaution. (Derek seemed especially concerned about her being the daughter of a hunter) Their bindings were too strong to budge, and any attempts to escape them were only making them tighter.

Isaac came back after a while, this time with food. He fed each of them a protein bar and some water without untying them.

“Why are you doing this?” Scott asked.

“You have to eat,” Isaac said with a shrug.

“No, why are you holding us here?” Scott tried to look as nonthreatening as possible. “I’ve seen you around school, you aren’t a bad person.”

Isaac shoved the protein bar into his mouth. “It’s not that simple.”

“What possible benefit would you get from kidnapping us?” Lydia asked.

“Absolutely none,” Isaac told her.

“Is it a money thing? Are you asking for a ransom?” Jackson demanded.

“Maybe,” Isaac said. “I hope so.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Jackson sputtered.

Isaac didn’t respond. He’d finished feeding them, so he walked out. 

They resumed their attempts to plan an escape. Isaac hadn’t given them a lot, but at least they could talk about what he’d said. It sounded like he didn’t really know why they’d been kidnapped, but that didn’t make any sense.

They shot ideas back and forth, and there were so many that it took a while for Scott to realize one voice was missing. “Stiles?” It wasn’t like his best friend not to be throwing out thoughts and opinions. There was no response, and Scott started to worry. “Stiles? Are you okay?”

Lydia shifted so that she was closer to Stiles, leaning forward to see his face. “Stiles?”

“Hmm?” Stiles hummed groggily.

“Oh no,” Lydia said.

“What’s happening?” Scott renewed his struggles against his bindings.

“I think he’s going into heat,” Lydia said gravely.

“Are you kidding me?” Jackson shouted. “What the fuck, Stilinski? Of all the times to lose it, you chose now? You’re gonna get us killed!”

Stiles gave a small whimper that made Scott’s skin crawl.

“Stop shouting at him, Jackson, you’ll only make it worse,” Allison said.

“What is the matter with you?” Lydia hissed at him. “You know omegas can’t control when their heat comes. The stress probably triggered it early. When we get out of here, we are having a lengthy discussion on dynamics and biology.”

“What are we supposed to do now?” Allison asked. “It’s only going to get worse for him.”

“Skin contact should help,” Lydia said, and Scott could feel her trying to press closer to Stiles.”

“No,” Jackson said.

“Shut up and help me,” Lydia said. “We need him to be lucid if we’re going to get out of here.”

Jackson grumbled but shifted to press against Stiles’ other side. Getting out of this mess was more important than ever. “Maybe if we could get free, I could smash the window.”

“If we can get free,” Jackson countered. They’d tried to use their claws, but the angle was wrong. 

When Isaac eventually returned, his eyes widened as he entered the room. “Um, Derek? I think we have a problem?”

“What?” Derek called, and Scott heard his footsteps approaching.

“Smell that?” Isaac asked when he walked in.

“Fuck,” Derek said. “No. That’s not happening right now.”

“You need to let us go,” Allison begged. “He needs to go to a hospital.”

Derek’s eyes flashed and his hands flexed clawed fingers. “I can’t do that.”

“Please--” Allison started.

“I can’t, stop asking.” Derek circled the group to stand in front of Stiles. “If he has more skin contact from betas that should hold out until…It would keep it at bay longer.”

“If you untied us,” Lydia said, but Derek cut her off.

“No. Isaac, come here.” Derek waited for Isaac to circle the group. “Cut his shirt off.”

“What?” Lydia shrieked.

“He needs more skin contact. You clearly know that because you moved closer to him,” Derek told her.

“Can’t you do it?” Isaac asked tentatively.

“No.” Derek’s tone made it clear he wouldn’t budge on that. Scott listened as Isaac’s claws ripped through Stiles’ shirt and he wondered which one he was wearing. Stiles would be pissed later if it was one of his favourites.

Jackson squawked and struggled as Derek did the same thing to his shirt then pushed him closer to Stiles.

“That’ll hold him for a while,” Derek said.

Isaac followed him toward the entrance. “What happens when--”

“I don’t know,” Derek bit out.

Scott gave himself a moment to feel nothing but dread.

***

Sheriff Stilinski paced the room, staring between the pictures of the Hale pack, then going back to the videos and notes. It didn’t add up.

It hadn’t taken long for one of the deputies to notice Stiles’ jeep in a spot where it shouldn’t have been with no Stiles around. When John couldn’t get a hold of him, he’d started calling Stiles’ friends. It became very clear, very quickly that they were just as unreachable as his son.

The kidnapping had been clumsy. There was video evidence of almost all of them, or witnesses nearby, who could easily identify who’d been on the scene. John knew that Derek Hale and his pack had taken the kids, but he couldn’t figure out why, and without that, he was having a hell of a time with where.

“Hale has been alpha for…?” John asked Parrish.

“Four months,” he supplied. “Previous alpha was Hale, Laura. Deceased.”

“And how long have the others been in his pack again?” John tapped at the picture of Erica Reyes pinned to the wall. She wasn’t any older than Stiles, but somehow she was caught up in this mess.

“Hale filed the paperwork three months ago,” Parrish told him. “Except for Cora.”

“Cora?” John said.

“Hale, Cora, female, alpha, beta werewolf, previously of the Martinez pack from just south of San Diego,” he recited. “Born into the Hale pack, then disappeared for a while. Two months ago, Derek submitted the papers to have her switched into his pack.”

“So, where is she?” John asked. He moved further down the wall to the picture of Boyd, just as young and innocent looking as Reyes. “Why send him after two and risk getting caught if they had another pack member?”

Parrish frowned, then went over to the laptop set on the table. He plucked at a few keys before saying, “Three days ago, Derek Hale called in and asked if we’d found anyone matching her description. He declined to make a missing persons report at that time.”

“Parrish, wasn’t there a report before that? Some junkie in the warehouse district thought he’d seen a girl being dragged behind the old bank.”

“Yeah, he also said he saw a dragon on top of the building and a giant walking down the street, so we didn’t think anything of it.”

“I think we should go check out the bank,” John said, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door, Parrish hot on his heels.

***

Scott winced as Stiles moaned again. “Jackson, are you sure you’re as close to him as you can be?”

“If I was any closer I’d be sitting in his lap,” Jackson said. “Why isn’t it helping?”

“Maybe he’d already progressed further than we thought,” Allison said. “Or because you’re only a beta.”

“Omegas can go through their heat with a beta, this isn’t the dark ages,” Lydia said. “They do it all the time. As long as an alpha doesn't touch them while they're in heat, a beta is fine.”

“Oh no,” Scott said.

“What?” Jackson elbowed Scott in the side.

“Did Derek touch Stiles? When he was looking at the bruise on his face?” Scott asked. The silence from Lydia and Jackson spoke volumes. “Isaac!” Scott shouted. “Isaac, please! Stiles can’t stay here, he’s getting worse!”

Unfortunately, it wasn’t Isaac who answered. Derek stalked into the room to face Stiles. Scott heard a low growl and felt the ropes moving. “What are you doing?” Lydia said, followed by, “Don’t you flash your eyes at me, where are you taking him?”

“Derek?” Isaac called from the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“They aren’t helping him, it isn’t enough,” Derek said. “Watch them, make sure they don’t do anything stupid. When it’s time to make the switch, don’t give them up until we have Cora.”

“Won’t you be there for that?” Isaac asked.

“I’m not sure,” Derek said. Scott watched him carry Stiles away.

***

Isaac stood pressed against the pile of crates that separated their captives from the rest of the warehouse wondering how the hell had he ended up in a position that he had captives?

“What is Derek doing with Stiles?” Erica asked, creeping closer. Their alpha had just disappeared into what used to be an office.

“I don’t know,” Isaac said.

Erica worried her lip. She’d done that so much her that red lipstick was almost completely gone. “Should we stop him?”

Isaac shrugged. “I don’t think we can.” Derek didn’t re-emerge from the room. So Isaac slid to the ground and tried to focus enough to hear what was happening inside. For half an hour he listened to Stiles whimpering or moaning and Derek gently soothing him. He listened to the panic in his classmates’ voices as they tried to figure out how to free themselves and get their friend back. He tried not to listen to Erica’s heartbeat, tripping slightly too fast for normal as they waited for--

“Did you miss us, puppies?” Kali’s voice echoed through the room, and she laughed as Isaac and Erica jumped to their feet, snarling.

“Where’s Cora?” Isaac growled.

“All in good time,” Deucalion said, strolling into the warehouse like he was entering a parlour. He was flanked by the twins, and Ennis approached Isaac’s other side. Isaac watched as Boyd quietly moved so he was between the Alphas and the door to the office. “Let’s see if you got what we wanted, hmm?”

At Duke’s signal, the twins moved forward, slamming into the stacks of crates and obliterating the makeshift wall. Isaac cringed at the sound of Lydia shrieking while Jackson cursed.

“One’s missing,” Kali said.

“We don’t need all of them,” Ennis argued. “Just the hunter’s girl and her puppy.”

“Yes, that would have been simpler,” Deucalion said. “But they always seem to be popping up trying to _save_ each other. Where’s the fifth?”

“I know you,” Lydia said, staring at one of the twins. “You’re the creep who tried to hit on me at the mall.” 

Jackson growled in agreement.

“You were at the shooting range,” Allison said, eyeing Kali.

“I’ve seen you at the hospital,” Scott said, his voice filled with suspicion and dread as realization dawned.

“Yes, indeed,” Deucalion said. “Turns out you’re a tricky lot to pin down, you see. So very suspicious at such a young age.”

Isaac thought they had cause to be suspicious, considering they’d been kidnapped. Even before that, everyone knew about Scott and Jackson being attacked by a rogue alpha. It had been hard enough for Scott to adjust to the bite. Jackson had defied all odds and become a kanima. His friends’ efforts to free him from it had made national news.

“What do you want?” Allison said.

“Power,” Deucalion said.

“What does that have to do with us?” Lydia asked.

“Do they still teach history in those horrible schools?” Deucalion asked. “Do you know what it was like before the so called _Protection Acts_? Alphas had the ultimate power. They could have packs as large as they wanted, as strong as they wanted. Yes, we had to deal with some pesky hunters. They could be swatted away like flies if a pack was strong enough.”

“The Protection Acts are for everyone's benefit,” Allison said. “Werewolves are kept safe from unprovoked attacks, and bite-happy alphas can’t force the bite on people and force them to join a pack.”

“Werewolves were safe under their alpha’s protection,” Deucalion growled. “And they will be again. When your family finds your body, ripped and clawed, they’ll seek revenge, to hell with the Protection Acts, and the werewolf population will turn to us, as they should.”

“You think you can kill me and my parents won’t come after you?” Allison asked. “The whole hunting community will join the hunt. You can’t escape that.” 

“Oh, they won’t be looking for me,” Deucalion said. “Not when your boyfriend is covered in your blood.”

“We tried to stop him, but he was out of control,” Kali said in a fake falsetto. “We had no choice but to put him down.”

The alphas laughed, and the group looked as horrified as Isaac felt. He was certain that the group would have gone through with it, if a voice hadn’t echoed through the warehouse.

_“Derek!”_

***

“Are you sure this is the place?” The Sheriff asked. He felt terrible bringing such a young girl who had just been held hostage for three days to a crime scene.

“Yes, they gave him very specific instructions,” Cora Hale said. She quirked her head to the side and let her eyes flash yellow. “I can hear them inside.”

“We need to get into position, the faster we can get in, the better,” John told his deputies.

“They’ll panic,” Cora said. “They’ll try to fight you off if they think I’m still at risk.”

“Can you howl or something?” Parrish asked. “Clue them in that you’re here.”

Cora stared at him for a moment like he’d greatly insulted her, then she lunged forward and grabbed the megaphone from the hostage negotiator they’d pulled in from San Francisco.

“ _Derek_!” She shouted into the amplifier. “Derek, I’m safe, you don’t have to do this!”

“Well, that certainly gets the message across,” the Sheriff muttered, and started directing his men to surround the building.

***

Relief washed through Isaac at the sound of Cora’s voice, but it was quickly matched with terror when he saw the rage on the alphas’ faces. 

“Derek?” Erica called tentatively.

“Out,” Derek growled, and that was enough to push Isaac into action. He lunged toward his former captives and used his claws to start ripping through the ropes. He saw Kali rushing toward him out of the corner of his eye before Erica tackled her. 

As soon as he got Scott’s ropes free, Scott turned to help him with the others. Isaac was nearly through Allison’s ropes when he was dragged backward by the claws of one of the twins. He rolled away but he wasn’t fast enough, and he flinched back as the alpha raised his hand in a killing blow.

But it never came. Isaac open his eyes and found Scott holding the alpha at bay. He wasted no time in returning to free the others.

The alphas nearly had them a dozen times before they reached the door, but each time they managed to come to each other's aid. Allison dug her nail into one twin’s throat before he could slash at Scott. Isaac and Erica tackled the other twin in tandem before he could collide with Allison. Lydia screamed so loud that Kali dropped to her knees before she could do more than scratch Jackson.

Derek refused to leave the old office, but any time an enemy got close to it, he lashed out with a ferocity Isaac didn’t know he possessed.

They made it to the door just as the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department crashed through them.

“Everybody on the ground, hands were I can see them,” the Sheriff shouted, his gun raised.

Isaac dropped to his knees and lifted his arms above his head. He turned around to watch Erica and Boyd do the same. 

The alphas weren’t so compliant. Isaac cringed, closing his eyes as shots rang out and The Alpha Pack was subdued. 

The nightmare was over.

“Where’s your alpha? Hey, where's your alpha?”

Isaac looked up at the Sheriff and cringed. He wasn’t sure how to explain that Derek had his son, and wasn’t likely to give him up.

***

Derek growled at the body gurgling blood on the floor in front of him. “Mine.” Ennis should never have been stupid enough to try to get close to his omega.

Stiles whimpered behind him and Derek moved closer, using the hand not soaked in blood to rub circles over the bare skin of his back. “Shh, baby, it’s alright, nearly safe now. I’ll keep you safe.” He’d never felt skin so smooth, never heard such beautiful moans, or smelled anything so mouthwatering.

He could hear the shouting and movement in the room beyond, but he couldn’t focus beyond protecting his omega, guarding him until it was safe enough to give him what he needed.

A human beta that smelled of smoke and flame tried to get into the room, and a distant part of his mind recognized that he was a deputy, but it was overruled by the instinct to protect what was _his_.

Slowly the sounds outside started to disappear, and Derek moved closer to Stiles, pressing flush against his side, close enough to offer more comfort but ready to spring to action the moment a threat arrived.

The room outside was almost completely silent when a different man approached. He spoke briefly to the hellfire not-quite-human beta that had been lingering despite Derek’s warnings.

 _Alpha_ , Derek’s senses informed him and he snarled.

“Derek, do you know who I am?” The man asked.

Derek inhaled deeply pushing past the scent of his omega. The scent seemed vaguely familiar.

“I’m Sheriff Stilinski, we’ve met before.” The man crouched down in the doorway. “Do you remember that? Derek, that’s my son you’ve got there. He needs help.”

Derek snarled at the Sheriff because he could help Stiles. He could take care of everything he needed.

“Dad?” Stiles whined.

It cut through Derek’s mind like lightning through fog. This wasn’t his omega. He might want him, but he had no claim on him. As his father, the Sheriff had more right to him than Derek.

“Just let me come closer,” the Sheriff said calmly. “I have a sedative for Stiles. You’ll feel better when he’s calm, won’t you? I’ll just come in and--”

“No,” Derek said sharply and the Sheriff stopped his tentative advance. “I don’t think...I’m not sure I can keep from attacking you.”

“Alright,” the Sheriff said. “Thanks for telling me. I need to get this to Stiles, though.”

Derek nodded. “It’ll make him feel better.”

“That’s right.” The Sheriff moved forward another inch under Derek’s watchful eye. “Can you help me with that? Can you help him feel better?”

Derek nodded, and reached out. “Throw, I’ll catch.”

He watched the Sheriff debate with himself before he gently tossed the syringe. “Any large muscle is fine. Shoulder maybe.”

Derek caught it easily and held it as carefully as he could. He had to keep reminding himself that this would help Stiles more than it hurt him. He started pulling pain before he even pierced the skin so Stiles didn’t even react to the prick. He set the needle as far away from them as he could, because he’d learned early on that Stiles moved around a lot. “How long will it take?” Derek asked.

“Only a few minutes,” the Sheriff assured him.

Stiles started moaning again, so Derek picked him up and held him in his lap. Stiles burrowed into his chest and Derek sighed, rocking gently until Stiles settled into unconsciousness.

The Sheriff cleared his throat, ready to start advancing again. Derek put Stiles back on the makeshift bed he’d made from long-forgotten coats and carpets. “He’ll be hungry when he wakes up,” he told the Sheriff. “You wait here and guard him and I’ll go get him food. He’ll be happier if he has food.” Derek forced himself to turn his back on Stiles and get out of the room. 

He knew, really, that the Sheriff wasn’t going to let him get food for Stiles, but it made him feel better to think it. More calm. So he kept telling himself that was where he was going, to provide for his omega, even as the deputy pinned him to the ground, handcuffed him, and read him his rights.


	2. Chapter 2

***

Legally speaking, the sheriff’s department has to ask every person they arrest if they want a lawyer. If they do, then their own will be contacted, or if they can’t afford that, the department provides someone for them. Now, just because someone says yes to a lawyer doesn’t mean a deputy can’t ask questions while they wait for them to get here.

The Sheriff stood behind the glass watching Deputy Haigh interrogate Derek Hale, and he wasn’t sure how he should feel about it. This man had kidnapped his son, but he’d also protected him. It went against an alpha's instinct to give up an omega in heat, but Hale had done it without bloodshed.

Sitting at the metal table staring straight ahead, he looked wrecked.

Deputy Haigh’s questions were all over the place, probably trying to find something that would push Hale’s buttons enough to make him talk. He asked about the other pack -- registered with the state under “The Alpha Pack”, which the Sheriff thought was pretty unoriginal-- about why he was working with them, about the actual kidnapping, and about Stiles. It was all jumbled up and hard to follow. Derek hadn’t said much. In fact, the only thing he’d said so far was when he’d first sat down and been cuffed to the table. He’d stared at the glass like he knew someone was there and said, “It’s not my pack’s fault. They were just trying to help me.” 

He’d been silent since then, but now Haigh was starting to ask about Cora. “Didn’t you notice when your sister went missing? You called in to ask about her. Why didn’t you report your sister missing?”

“Can you please be more specific?” Derek said, his voice rough.

Haigh flicked through his pages. “Wednesday evening, March 29th of this year, you called and asked about your sister--”

“No,” Derek said. “Which sister.”

“Which one do you think?” Haigh said sharply.

Derek’s eyes flashed red and the Sheriff saw Haigh reach for his gun. “My sisters are dead. My beautiful, strong, caring sisters were cut down before they had a chance to live. One of them _might_ be alive still. But I’m not sure, because someone took her from me. So. Could you be more specific?”

Haigh didn’t have the opportunity to elaborate before Braeden swept into the room. She was the best public defender in Beacon Hills, and she was a force to be reckoned with. She and the Sheriff had weekly coffee meetings. They weren’t exactly friends, but he liked talking justice with her and knowing she could rip his balls off for stepping out of line.

“Out,” she commanded Haigh. “My client is entitled to private consultation with his lawyer before answering any questions.”

John liked how she always called them ‘clients,” even though they weren’t the ones paying her. He hoped that she could help Hale. He’d already been through hell.

As he left the viewing room, he heard Derek ask her, “What about my pack? Is someone helping them? Are they alright?”

The guy’s morals may be skewed but his loyalty was unyielding.

When Braeden finished talking with Hale privately, the Sheriff sent Parrish in to take care of the real questioning. It was technically his arrest, after all, and he thought Parrish would handle Derek better. Be less abrasive. John himself returned to the viewing room to watch the proceedings.

Parrish went by the book, following all the right procedures before he started with the questions. “How about we start by you just telling me what happened? Start from the beginning, and we’ll go from there.”

Derek looked to Braeden and she nodded, so he took a deep breath and started. “Cora and I spend time together every Tuesday. Just us, not the whole pack. I thought she’d be home right after school, but she wasn’t. She didn’t answer her phone so I thought maybe she’d been held up in detention or made some new friends. When she didn’t show up for dinner, I started to panic.”

“Is that when you called the station?” Parrish prompted when Derek went silent.

“No, I--” Derek clenched his fists on the table. “Her social worker said she has a tendency to run off. Frequently. It hadn’t happened with me yet. She knows it’s important to me to know she’s okay so when she needs space, she tells me, and I let her be for awhile. So I thought maybe she’d just taken some time to herself and forgot to tell me, and she’d be back soon, but...That didn’t make sense. I started by calling the school, and they said she’d gone home with everyone else. So I started calling hospitals. I tried every medical centre within a hundred miles, but they didn’t have a record of her. Then I tried the Sheriff’s Department.”

“Can you tell me why you didn’t report her missing?” Parrish asked in an even voice. John made a mental note to tell him he was getting better at sounding neutral.

“The running thing,” Derek said. “I was hoping it was just that, and that she’d come back on her own. I didn’t want it to go into her file that she’d done it again. Then they showed up.”

“They?”

“The Alpha Pack. They told me they had Cora and they would kill her if I didn’t do what they said. They had a video of her tied up and I--” Derek’s voice broke and he shook his head. “I couldn’t lose her too. Even if I’m locked up for this, I need her to be safe.”

Derek went on to explain how he’d been blackmailed into grabbing Stiles, Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Jackson. He’d asked the Alphas what they wanted them for, but couldn’t get a straight answer.

“I didn’t want to hurt them, but they aren’t pack. Cora is,” Derek explained. “It’s not my betas’ faults. They just wanted to help their packmate. It’s instinct to listen to your alpha and I couldn’t do it without them.”

He talked about taking the kids, about trying to make sure no one was hurt, but Stiles had been bruised. He told them how he’d touched his skin to make sure it wasn’t too bad. “I didn’t know that he was… It hadn’t really started yet.”

“You weren’t aware that his heat would come?” Parrish asked.

Derek shook his head. “I wouldn’t have touched him if I had known. I don’t know his normal scent, maybe it had already changed, maybe it hadn’t, but he hadn’t shown any other signs yet. When we realized, I tried to get him closer to Jackson so it would slow down, but I’d already touched him. It wasn’t helping, betas weren’t enough anymore.”

Parrish checked the notes John knew he didn’t need. “When we arrived you had separated him from everyone else.” 

“He needed to feel protected,” Derek said. “So I made us a den, and I tried to keep him from getting any worse.”

“Did you claim him?” Parrish barely had time to finish the question before Derek responded.

“No, I wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t in a position to make those kind of choices. I just wanted to help.”

“So you took him to a separate den, and you wouldn’t let anyone near him, but you didn’t claim him?” Parrish’s tone showed just how hard he found that to believe.

Derek sighed. “If you don’t believe I wouldn't because it's wrong, then think about it from my perspective, at the time. A threat would be coming at any moment. It wasn’t my territory. It goes against instinct to claim him in such an unsafe place. It would leave us both at risk.”

“When I came to the room, you wouldn’t let me in,” Parrish pointed out.

“I was running on instinct and you were trying to take something my wolf thought was mine. So, yeah,” Derek said, rubbing his eyes. “I didn’t let you near him.”

John had seen all he needed, so he slipped out of the room. He doubted the hospital would let him near his son, but he could at least check in with his friends.

***

Stiles hated waking up after his heat, but this was the worst he’d ever had. His head was pounding, and his whole body ached. A nurse was forcing gatorade on him and it was green, which was the worst flavor of an already shitty drink, but she insisted that he was dehydrated. As if he didn’t know that by the humiliating amount of come he was still covered in. 

Stiles was perfectly capable of cleaning himself up, thanks very much, but after going through hell, it would be nice if there was someone there to do it for him. A gentle hand taking care not to scrub too hard on his oversensitive skin would be a big improvement from the lukewarm shower he was about to be treated to. And if that hand was attached to someone strong enough to help him stay upright, well then, Stiles wouldn’t be so concerned about his knees giving out.

If they had the tenor voice Stiles had been jerking off to for the past three days, praising him and promising to keep him safe, Stiles wasn’t likely to complain.

But he could clean up on his own. Just as soon as he could convince his body to move.

***

The judicial system was not quick, and the Sheriff appreciated that Hale had the sense to lay low after he’d gotten bail. He was a little worried that he’d skipped town, but a swing by Hale’s address showed his car still parked outside the rundown building, and a fortunately timed trip to the grocery store where he’d spotted Cora assured him he was still in town.

Isaac got five hundred hours of community service. Boyd and Erica each got a thousand, Boyd because he’d taken two people, Erica because she’d injured Stiles in the process. 

Derek got two thousand because he was their alpha, so he’d been calling the shots.

The Alpha Pack were being put away for a very, very long time.

It was the last case of the day, so there was a stream of people filing out of the courthouse. It was easy enough to corner Derek behind one of the grecian-style pillars and have a quick word with him. 

“Well, Derek, as a man who’s seen you lose everything, I’m glad you’re not getting locked up,” the Sheriff said.

Derek’s expression was guarded and his body stiff as he muttered a stilted, “Thank you, sir.”

“That being said, I’m also a father,” John explained. “If you come near my son, I’ve got a gun loaded with wolfsbane, and I will personally see to it that you get very well acquainted with it.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek said, with no further argument.

John smiled, because he liked to keep people on their toes. “Your pack are all starting their senior year, aren’t they? An exciting time for them.” Derek nodded and mumbled another “yes, sir,” So the Sheriff clapped him on the shoulder and turned to walk away.

“Sir?” Derek called, and John turned back surprised. “Isaac is on the Lacrosse team. First line and everything. It means a lot to him, but he mentioned Scott and Stiles are on the team too.”

John nodded slowly. “He doesn’t get too close to them, they won’t make trouble for him.”

“Thank you, sir,” Derek said, miniscule amounts of tightness leaving his shoulders.

The Sheriff shook his head, and sighed. “I really did want to see you do well, Derek. I really did.”

He joined the steam of people, leaving Derek staring after him. 

***

The benefit of driving to and from school alone was that no one was there to judge Stiles when he verbalized his frustrations in the form of a long, warbling groan. Then again, he used to carpool with Scott, who was used to the strange noises that Stiles made.

“Bullshit,” Stiles muttered to himself as he steered his jeep homeward. It was only the first week of school and Stiles was already completely fed up with Harris. Along with his usual jabs and bullying, this year he’d tried to have Stiles removed from his AP chemistry class under the grounds that he would never pursue it as a career, so the spot should be available to another student. Stiles called that bullshit, firstly because the class wasn’t full anyway, since no one wanted to take a class that difficult with Harris, and secondly because maybe he would have a career in chemistry. He hadn’t decided yet. 

Stiles let out another groan, picturing the college pamphlets piled on his desk. He didn’t know where he wanted to go, or what he wanted to take, and most importantly what he wanted to do with it when he graduated. He did know that he didn’t want his options limited just because he was an omega. 

Fortunately, Stiles’ guidance counselor wasn’t a closed-minded idiot, so she’d refused Harris’ request to transfer Stiles to a different class, but he had to get his dad to sign a form saying he agreed to Stiles taking part in the class and would “work to his full potential without disturbing the learning environment.” Whatever the hell that meant. Stiles knew his Dad would sign, but he’d also be concerned and they’d have to talk about whether the benefit of taking that particular class was worth putting up with dynamic discrimination.

Stiles decided to go right at the corner instead of straight, so he could pass the Beacon Hills Anglican Church. He liked the architecture of the old building and the stained-glass windows, and he hoped they would cheer him up a bit.

The church was typically empty on a Wednesday afternoon, but today there was a pickup truck pulled up by the steps and someone was working on them. It took only a second glance for Stiles to realize it was Derek Hale.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he chose to turn into the parking lot, only that he did, and after cutting the engine, he walked over and leaned on the dark blue truck. “What are you doing?”

He watched Derek’s shoulders seize with tension as he registered who was there. “Do you go to this church? They said no one would be here today.”

“Nah, it’s just nice to look at. Were the steps broken?” Stiles asked, eyeing the wet cement Derek was smearing across a stair.

“Only cracked,” Derek muttered. “Did you want something?”

“Not really,” Stiles said, and he moved closer to look over Derek’s handy work. “Do you go to this church? It has good windows.”

“No. They don’t have a big budget so they give a lot of volunteer hours,” Derek said. 

“Oh,” Stiles said, as he made the connection to why Derek had to volunteer. His dad wouldn’t talk about the verdict for Derek and his pack, so Stiles had looked it up himself. “Isn’t this sort of thing usually done by a contractor or something?”

“I am a contractor,” Derek said, then muttered, “I’m just not an employable one.”

“Criminal records do that, huh?” Stiles said.

Derek looked over his shoulder to glare at Stiles. “Look, I really need to finish this, so I can’t leave right now.”

“Okay,” Stiles said with a shrug, then sat down on the ground next to him. “Hey, question. Do you think omegas can work in science fields?”

“What?” Derek glared at him. “What kind of question is that?”

“One that I want you to answer. In your opinion,” Stiles said graciously.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not an omega,” Derek said and Stiles snorted. “I’m not mated, I have no omega family members or pack left, and I don’t have any omega friends. I don’t think I’m exactly qualified to answer that question.”

“That’s an interesting answer,” Stiles said. “We’ll table that for later discussion, but for now, yes or no answer, can omegas work in science fields?”

“Yes,” Derek said hotly.

“Explain,” Stiles demanded.

“You said it was a yes or no.” Derek sat back on his heels with a huff.

Stiles shrugged. “It was, but now I want to know why you choose that answer.”

Derek rolled his eyes and scooped up more of the grey goop. “It isn’t really a yes or no. It depends on the omega. Some omegas are smart enough to work in science, some aren't. Some alphas can, some can’t. There are different kinds of intelligence. That isn’t limited to one dynamic or the other.”

“Exactly!” Stiles reached out to smack Derek’s arm. “Not every omega on the planet is happy to sit at home and wait for their alpha to breed them. They want other things too.”

Derek threw down his trowel and glared at Stiles. “Would you go away already?”

Stiles blinked at his angry face and hostile posture. “It was just a question.”

“Then go ask someone who cares.”

Stiles forced his mouth not to hang open. “Oh,” he said dumbly. “Okay.”

Derek turned back to the steps, dismissing Stiles completely. Stiles went back to his jeep feeling worse than before. 

***

Beacon Hills wasn’t a very big town. Derek did his absolute best to avoid the McCall pack, particularly Stiles, but it was a lot harder than he'd imagined. Stiles kept popping up everywhere. Derek tried to ignore him, but instead of avoiding Derek like any normal ex-kidnappee would, Stiles would rush over and start asking him questions. So Derek resolved to actively avoid Stiles rather than just stand completely still until he disappeared.

It didn’t work.

It took Derek half an hour to buy olive oil because Stiles was reading the backs of every single brand on the shelf. When he finally left and Derek managed to grab a bottle, Stiles cornered him by the frozen foods.

Derek had been carrying chairs out of the church to his truck when Stiles pulled into the parking lot. Not only did he talk his ear off about the architectural significance of the building, he’d grabbed a chair and started _helping._

When Derek tried to be a good alpha and pick his pack up from school, Stiles marched across the parking lot and started asking him why he was driving the Camaro instead of his truck. His betas hovered by the doors until the lot was empty and McCall came to drag Stiles away.

It wasn’t that Derek really minded that Stiles talked to him. Derek found him interesting. He was extremely intelligent, and the topics he chose were always unexpected. He looked at Derek like he really cared about his answers. And Derek wasn’t even thinking about how the kid smelled. (Sharp like lemon, but sweet like spun sugar, with an undertone of rich earth and hot lighting.)

If Derek were honest, he could talk to Stiles for hours. But he knew better. He knew exactly what it would look like if the Sheriff saw them talking, and Derek couldn’t risk anything more on his record. Between the fire, Laura’s murder, and this whole debacle, he’d seen enough of the inside of an interrogation room.

However much he wanted to be near Stiles, he didn’t have the right. He needed to focus on his pack, and being the alpha they deserved. Stiles confused expression when Derek snapped at him and walked away didn’t factor into that.

***

Stiles tossed his backpack into the corner of his room and sat down with a heavy sigh. It was never a good time for his heat to hit, but he was pretty disappointed it was today. Stiles had started looking forward to Wednesdays, because Derek was almost always doing something around the church, and while he would run away from him in grocery stores or cross the street to avoid him around town, he’d never abandon his task there. On Wednesdays, Stiles had Derek as his captive audience.

He tried to tell himself that he was lucky it had held off this long, since it had been over four months since his last one. The one that had started while he was tied up in a warehouse. He also tried to convince himself that he was upset because he knew he’d miss a Chem test and Harris would put up a fight about him making it up.

He didn’t think that really explained the melancholy feeling pressing down on him. Stiles opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out his suppressant and glared at it. He didn’t want to spend the next three days lonely and confused. If he was lucky, he’d sleep for most of it, but more than likely, he’d lay in bed questioning everything about himself and every choice he’d ever made. His skin would prickle, his stomach would churn, and he’d be perpetually turned on with no relief in sight.

Stiles grabbed a water bottle off the table and downed the pill anyway. He hated his suppressants and he hated his heat, but the alternative was worse. If he didn’t want to end up like he had last heat, he had to take it, and he never wanted to go through that again. 

Stiles left the empty pill pack in plain sight so his dad would know he’d taken it, changed into his softest pajamas and climbed into bed. He was already exhausted and it would only get worse from here.

***

The house was dark when the Sheriff pulled into the driveway next to Stiles’ jeep. As soon as he walked in the door, he sighed. It was that time again. He got to spend the next three days trying to keep his son fed and hydrated without getting an eyeful. 

John made sure to thump his feet on the stairs so Stiles would now he was coming, then tapped on the partially open door. “Doing okay, kiddo?” He wasn’t expecting the tortured sob that came out of the room. “Stiles?”

He pushed the door opened and rushed to Stiles’ side. His son was curled up on the floor, still tangled in the sheets he’d pulled off the bed with him, sweaty, pale and clawing at his stomach with blunt bitten fingernails like he could rip it open if he just tried hard enough.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Stiles sobbed, shivering even with his eyes glazed over with fever.

“Stiles, why didn’t you take your pill?” John asked, then looked to Stiles’ table where he always left the empty packaging. And it _was_ empty. So he’d taken it, it just wasn’t working. “Come here, kiddo.” John reached out to pull Stiles to his feet, and was shocked when his son recoiled from his touch.

“No, no, please,” Stiles groaned, words slurring together.

The five minutes it took for an ambulance to arrive were the longest of John’s life.

***

The view from Stiles’ hospital window showcased an ugly brown building and the scrawniest pigeon he’d ever seen. It wasn’t very interesting, but Stiles found himself staring out anyway. Everything felt numb and gray. His skin was sore and the hospital sheets were scratchy. His stomach still ached and he was plagued with a bone crushing sadness that wouldn’t go away, and an empty longing that was its new best friend.

His dad was at his bedside, now that his heat had passed. Stiles could tell by the way his fingers tapped at his newspaper that he was worried, but trying not to let on. Stiles didn’t remember much beyond pain, burning, and emptiness before they’d knocked him out, but he wondered if he’d done something wrong. His eyes started to sting at the prospect of his dad being mad at him.

“Hey, kiddo, it’s okay,” his dad said, reaching out to pat his hand. “We’ll get this sorted out.”

Stiles offered him a weak smile and went back to staring out the window.

A soft tap at the door preceded Dr. Deaton entering the room. Stiles had met him once, before he was discharged after his last heat. The hospital probably thought the consistency would make him feel better, but it didn’t, really. He still didn’t really know Deaton from Adam.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Stilinski?” Deaton asked.

Stiles shrugged a little. “Better, I guess.”

Deaton asked him a few questions, about the pain he felt, and the numbness, too. Stiles wasn’t sure how Deaton knew about that, but he answered anyway. After consulting the vitals on Stiles’ chart he made a humming noise.

“Do you know yet why the suppressant didn’t work?” The Sheriff prompted.

“It wasn’t strong enough,” Deaton told them. “The suppressant Stiles took was only for an unmated omega.”

“I _am_ unmated,” Stiles told him. 

“On the contrary,” Deaton said mildly. “Based on the strength of your heat, I’d say to an alpha and for a few months at least.” 

“No, no,” the Sheriff said. “He would have told me.” He looked at Stiles questioningly. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Stiles said. “And I wouldn’t have been by myself for my heat if I was mated. That makes no sense.”

Deaton made a sympathetic noise. “Yes, I’m sure you would have handled it differently had you realized. I can see that this had come as a surprise to you, but take a moment to consider. Is there an alpha that you’ve been thinking about a lot recently? Seeking out their company more than before your last heat? Someone you get very disappointed not to see?”

“Oh,” Stiles said, then added, “No,” but not quickly enough.

The Sheriff leveled him with a flat look. “You wanna try that again?”

Stiles picked at the horrible blanket. “Maybe this one guy?” 

“Stiles, why didn’t you say anything?” The Sheriff asked.

“I didn’t think I’d bonded to him! That’s insane,” Stiles said. “He barely pays me any attention. In fact, he avoids me as much as possible. He doesn’t even like me, how could I be bonded to him?” Stiles felt his stupid eyes start to sting again and his dad sat on the edge of his bed to put an arm around his shoulders.

“Bonds are very rarely one sided,” Deaton said gently. “He must have been receptive to it at some point.”

“Well, I don’t think he is now,” Stiles said bitterly.

Deaton’s forehead indented with a small frown. “Stiles, it is possible to sever a bond, however it can be a very painful process. You’re body has started a chemical reaction, and to reverse it means injections, many of which have unpleasant side effects. In addition, the emotional effect it will have can be devastating. It’s similar to the death of a loved one. You’ll be overcome by loneliness and paranoia, you'll feel constantly unsafe and unprotected.”

“Because I totally need to be more hypervigilant,” Stiles muttered.

“What if he doesn’t get the treatment?” The Sheriff asked. “If we use a stronger suppressant, won’t it just go away on its own?”

“That could take years, and result in similar emotional distress. The severity of his heats will increase until even the strongest suppressants available won’t stop the pain.” Deaton tapped his clipboard. “I really think it would be best if you attempted to reconcile with your alpha. Time spent in his company will clear up all the emotional issues you’ve been experiencing.”

The Sheriff patted Stiles’ thigh. “His next heat won’t be so painful?” 

“Well, that depends on how well things go with the alpha,” Deaton dodged. “Proximity and attention will help Stiles feel more stable for the moment. We will deal with his heat once it gets closer. Stiles, do you think your alpha wouldn’t care for you properly?”

“He would,” Stiles said immediately and winced at his dad’s raised eyebrow. “I just don’t think he’d want to.”

“So you don’t feel you’d be in danger?” Deaton asked. 

Stiles shrugged. “Not really.”

“I think we need to discuss this privately so we can decide on our course of action,” the Sheriff said.

Deaton gave a nod to each of them before leaving the room.

“Stiles.”

“Yes, Dad?” Stiles said with false brightness.

“Did you meet this alpha at school?” The Sheriff asked. Stiles shook his head and his dad sighed. “Please tell me he’s a good guy?”

Stiles worried the blanket under his hands. “Depends on how you define _good guy_." 

The Sheriff crossed his arms and pinned his gaze. “I define it as gainfully employed with no criminal record and a friendly disposition.”

“You might wanna rethink that definition.” Stiles wasn’t actually sure if Derek was employed or not, but he certainly wasn’t friendly, and he sure as shit wouldn’t pass a criminal background check.

The Sheriff rubbed his face looking exhausted. “Who are we talking about Stiles?”

Stiles didn’t answer right away. He was trying to think of a way he could spin this that his dad wouldn’t be upset but he just couldn’t. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

“Just tell me, Stiles.” The Sheriff leaned forward to brace his arms on his knees.

“I think it might be Derek Hale,” Stiles said quickly. “Everytime I see him, I stop what I’m doing to go talk to him. Sometimes I go out of my way hoping I’ll run into him, and if I don’t I get so fu- freaking disappointed I can’t stand it.”

The Sheriff’s jaw was ticking with tension. “How long has this been going on?”

Stiles shrugged. “Around when school started? Not too long.”

“Did he seek you out? Approach you at all?”

Stiles felt his eyes start to sting and his throat squeeze. “No. He avoids me as much as possible. He practically runs away when he sees me, and if I manage to talk to him, he barely talks back or he tells me to go away.”

The Sheriff looked a bit easier at that. “Well, then, we’ll have to fix that.”

“Weren’t you listening?” Stiles asked, rubbing at his stupid eyes. “He doesn’t want anything to do with me. I know everybody says I’m young, and when I’m older I'll find someone who appreciates me, and I believe that, I do, but shit, even the guy who kidnapped me doesn’t want anything to do with me. He must be mortified that I went into heat and he felt compelled to even sit with me.”

“No, Stiles, it's more likely that he’s trying not to get shot,” the Sheriff said, rubbing his neck as he recrossed his legs. “And if he doesn’t see how amazing you are, that might be exactly what happens.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

The Sheriff sighed. “Look, a lot of messed up things have happened to Hale, and for the most part, I’m glad the courts decided not to lock him up. But he still kidnapped my boy. So, I warned him off a bit.”

“Warned him off?” Stiles squeaked.

“Threatened him with wolfsbane. A bit,” the Sheriff admitted, waiving his hand dismissively. “I’m a father, it’s what we do.”

“Dad!” Stiles sputtered. “You can’t just go around threatening to shoot people.”

“Well, technically I am the Sheriff, so…”

“Dad!”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” he said, holding his hands out. “I’ll fix it, Stiles, I promise.”

“You can’t just threaten him into spending time with me, that’s just as bad,” Stiles warned him. “I don’t think he’s as bad as you think. If you ask most people, an alpha put in that situation would have taken advantage in a second. He not only had enough control not to hurt me, he also let you take me away from him.” Stiles felt another stab of uncertainty and he didn’t like it one bit. “Unless he just didn’t care about keeping me that much.”

“He cared,” the Sheriff said. “He put your safety above everything, Stiles. He cared.”

Stiles rolled onto his side and curled in on himself. He really hoped his dad was right, but he wasn’t very hopeful. Why would Derek want to put up with being threatened and forced to talk to someone in exchange for Stiles? No one had ever really shown an interest before, and Stiles didn’t think it was likely to change now. 

Stiles squeezed his eyes closed and tried to push out the thoughts. His dad moved his chair closer and rubbed Stiles’ shoulder until he drifted to sleep.

***


	3. Chapter 3

***

Derek was nearly finished caulking the window to the church basement. He should have finished twenty minutes ago, but he was lingering. Derek growled under his breath and called himself an idiot. 

This was the second week in a row that Stiles hadn’t dropped by.

And Derek shouldn’t _care_ if he hadn’t showed up. But here he was, dragging his feet, hoping Stiles would appear. He might not have cared so much, except that he also hadn’t seen Stiles around town. At all. Derek had gone from running into him every time he turned around to not seeing a single sign of him. It was worrying. 

Derek packed up his tools and loaded them into his truck. He was nearly leaving when he heard the familiar rumble of Stiles’ jeep coming around the corner. Relief and panic raced through him. “I should go,” Derek muttered. “I should get in my truck and drive away.”

Stiles burst out of his jeep and rushed over, flushed and breathless. “Oh my god, I thought I’d missed you. I was supposed to come earlier, but stupid Harris insisted I had to make up a test today and then he sat there and marked it in front of me, the asshole.”

“Why did you miss the test?” Derek blurted out.

Stiles blinked at him then shrugged. “I got my heat last week. It didn’t go as planned.”

“What--” Derek broke off. It really wasn’t any of his business.

“Yeah, about that,” Stiles said, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided eye contact. “My dad wants you to come for dinner.”

Derek felt the blood drain from his head, and he took a big step back from Stiles. His fingers quivered and his claws begged for release.

“He won’t shoot you,” Stiles said, following Derek forward. “It’s just dinner, and we’ll all talk and if you never want to see me again I’ll-- I-- that’s fine.”

Derek watched as Stiles worried the drawstring of his hoodie. As he fumbled over his words, Derek heard Stiles’ already fast heartbeat trip over the word _fine_. “What’s going on?”

“It’s not really that big a deal, I mean, it is, but it’s not the end of the world or anything--”

“Stiles.” Derek tugged the string of Stiles’ hoodie out of his hand before he could fray it past recognition. “What is it?”

“My doctor thinks I’ve bonded. To you, I mean,” Stiles said. Derek’s face must not have looked good because Stiles winced. “It’s really not that big a deal, I mean, he said it would be best if I could spend time with you and try to make it work, but he can break it. I’ll be alright.”

“It would hurt you though, wouldn’t it?” Derek asked. He remembered Laura coming home, tired and frustrated after counseling someone who was trying to break a bond with their abuser. She loved being a counselor, but it was draining. 

“Well, yeah,” Stiles said with a shrug. “But that’s not your fault. If you don’t want anything to do with me--”

“I do,” Derek said, quickly. “I mean, if _you_ want.”

“Yeah, that would be...good,” Stiles said. “So, dinner? Dad wants to get to know you in a _less stressful_ situation.” He made air quotes as he talked and rolled his eyes.

“Less stressful for who?” Derek huffed. 

“I know, right?” Stiles exclaimed, arms flung out. “But he’s set on it. We were hoping you’d be free tomorrow. He should be able to get through dinner without getting called in.”

“Yeah, I’ll make it work,” Derek said.

“You can bring someone from your pack, if you want,” Stiles offered. “You know, moral support.”

“I’ll ask Cora,” Derek said. “She’s better at people.” Stiles gave a half laugh and Derek wondered if he could make him laugh properly. He’d like to hear that. 

“So, tomorrow, then?” Stiles asked.

“Sure,” Derek said, but Stiles looked like he didn’t want to leave. “Was there something else?”

Stiles bit his lip. “Can I hug you?” Stiles asked in a rush of words. “I’m kinda messed up right now, and Dr. Deaton said endorphins would--”

Derek moved quickly, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ middle and tucking his chin over his shoulder. He felt the tension pour out of Stiles as his arms came up to hold Derek back.

Derek would have liked nothing more than to stand there holding Stiles. Maybe rub his face on Stiles' neck so that his scent would transfer, make it clear to anyone who got near him that Stiles was Derek’s. 

But he didn’t have that right, and if he wanted a chance to earn it, he needed to calm the fuck down and back off. He disentangled himself from Stiles and put some distance between them.

Stiles looked bereft and confused. They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment, until Derek blurted out. “I’ll bring you dessert.”

“What?” Stiles blinked in confusion.

“Tomorrow,” Derek elaborated. “I’ll bring you dessert. Well, everyone, obviously, I’ll bring some for everyone.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, looking happier. “Yeah, that would be great.”

“Just you and your dad, right?” Derek asked. He wasn’t sure what he was going to bring yet, but he didn’t want to show up without enough for everyone.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. We thought it would be best to keep it to just family until we can get our bearings a bit.”

Derek didn’t voice what a relief that was. Considering his last encounter with Stiles’ pack, he wasn’t anxious to see them again. “What time would you like us there?”

“Six?” Stiles said, with an accompanying vague gesture. “Whenever’s good, but that would give me time to get the food ready after school.”

“Six, then,” Derek said.

“Cool.”

“Great.”

“Awesome.”

Silence descended again as they eyed each other, but this time, Stiles was the one to break it. “So, are you still working on something or…?

“No, actually, I just finished for the day,” Derek said, jerking his thumb toward the window.

“Oh, then I guess I’ll let you head out,” Stiles said. He gave a stiff wave and walked backwards to his car. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yep,” Derek confirmed, even though they’d already gone over this. He watched Stiles get in his car and drive away before he even approached the driver’s seat of his truck.

What the hell had he gotten into this time?

***

“Don’t!” Stiles slapped his dad’s hands away as he tried to snag a deviled egg off the platter.

“These are appetizers, Stiles, they’re supposed to be eaten before dinner,” he argued, trying to reach around Stiles again.

Stiles snapped on the plastic cover with a satisfying pop and put the eggs in the fridge. “I just arranged them the way I want, you’re not messing it up until after they get here.”

“Huh,” his dad said. “Let me see. We’ve got pot roast--your specialty--garlic mashed potatoes, candied carrots, a boatload of gravy, and appetizers that I’m not allowed to touch.”

“Yes,” Stiles said, keeping his face neutral. He knew that tone. His dad thought he was on to something.

“Gee, Stiles, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to impress your alpha.” His dad smirked at him. “But I distinctly recall you telling me, many, _many_ times, that you were a modern day omega who doesn’t bother with that kind of thing.

Stiles sniffed disdainfully. “There’s nothing wrong with putting together a nice meal.”

“Never said there was,” the Sheriff agreed, but his cheshire cat smile was growing. 

“I just want everything to go well,” Stiles said tugging at his hair.

His father sobered and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I know, kiddo. If the food’s anything to go by, it’s gonna be a good night.”

Stiles didn’t have much time to appreciate the support, because the doorbell rang, sending his nerves skyrocketing. “Oh god, they’re here.”

“I’ll go get the door,” the Sheriff said.

“No!” Stiles lunged past him. “I got it.” He took deep breaths, blowing air out instead of just exhaling as he approached the door. As soon as he opened it and saw Derek standing there, he felt calmer. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Derek said. “I hope we’re not early.”

Stiles had looked at the clock a hundred times in the last hour, but he had no idea what time it was. “Nope, right on time.” He’d never seen Derek clean shaven. Or in dress pants and a shirt with more than four buttons.

Derek held out the covered dish in his hands. “I brought chocolate torte.”

“Great,” Stiles said, accepting the offering. He felt a strange glee and satisfaction in his chest. If the reading he’d been doing was anything to go by, it was probably an instinctual reaction to having his alpha provide him with something. He’d known Derek was bringing dessert, but he hadn’t anticipated how happy he’d be about it. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” Derek said, offering a tentative smile that Stiles returned at full force.

“So, are we actually going to be invited into the house?”

“Oh, shit!” Stiles had completely forgotten that Cora would be coming with Derek, and hadn't even noticed her when he’d opened the door. “Of course, come in.” He stepped back and internally berated himself for messing up social etiquette as simple as letting people in the house.

He led the Hales into the livingroom and his dad came in through the kitchen. “Hale,” he said gruffly, offering his hand to Derek.

“Thank you for having us, sir,” Derek said stiffly. 

Stiles noticed that his dad didn’t correct Derek and offer his first name before turning to Cora. “You’re looking well, Cora.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cora said evenly. “Being with my family has made a big improvement.”

“You spent a few years farther south, didn’t you?” The Sheriff asked, gesturing for them to sit.

Stiles slipped into the kitchen as Cora explained how much she’d moved around to a lot of different foster homes after the fire. He grabbed the deviled eggs he’d just set in the fridge and the meatball skewers that he’d prepared earlier.

“It’s an adjustment, but it's good to be home,” Cora said, she looked over at Stiles entering the room. “Something smells good.”

“Just a little something to start with,” Stiles said. “I wasn’t sure if either of you had any food allergies, so I hope this is alright.”

“Werewolves,” Derek said.

“One of the perks,” Cora elaborated. “We aren’t allergic to anything. Though Derek has a vendetta against asparagus.”

“That was Laura’s fault and I was 10,” Derek said, his ears colouring.

“11 at least,” Cora countered with easy affection.

The Sheriff snagged an egg immediately and Stiles hoped the Hales had at least gotten the chance to glimpse his nice presentation. “I’m surprised they let Derek keep custody of you with his criminal record.”

“Dad,” Stiles ground out.

“The situation that caused that record made it abundantly clear that I am Derek’s first priority. He’s my family and I belong with him,” Cora said, all friendly ease gone from her voice. “But if it makes you feel better, we get regular visits from social services, just to keep us on our toes.”

The Sheriff nodded. “They look at your pack dynamics too?”

“Seriously, Dad?” Stiles knew there would be some interrogation involved in this evening, but he’d thought they’d at least get to the main course first.

“I’ve been told packs are like families,” the Sheriff continued. “And Derek’s betas are very young and clearly malleable.”

Cora looked just as pissed as Stiles felt. “How is that--”

“Yes,” Derek said, cutting her off. “Pack is family, so she’s supporting them as well. Especially Isaac, since he’s an emancipated minor.”

“Why didn’t you ask for custody of him too?” The Sheriff asked.

“I thought the autonomy might make him more comfortable,” Derek said. “Now he has the support of pack, but the independence to keep himself safe.”

The Sheriff nodded. “Isaac’s father was a bastard.”

“Can’t say I’m choked up about his death,” Derek said. “Isaac’s a good kid though, and he didn’t have any family left.”

“I think that’s the only one Jackson doesn’t feel bad about,” Stiles said. “Not that it was his fault.”

“I’m sure you heard about the kanima incident last year,” the Sheriff said. 

“Heard, but was a bit preoccupied,” Derek said.

Stiles realized that Laura Hale had died shortly before Jackson’s emotional freak out, and wished he hadn’t mentioned it.

“Sounds like people heard about it across the country,” Cora said. “Everybody was talking about the teens that defeated him. And after taking down a rogue alpha to boot.”

“Not before Scott and Jackson were bitten,” Stiles said. “Without Allison and Lydia anchoring them, we couldn’t have done it.”

“What about you?” Cora asked. “How do you fit into their pack?”

“We aren’t really a pack,” Stiles said, brushing off her question. He didn’t like to think about his contributions to the shit they’d dealt with. On good days, he considered himself a valued researcher and analyst. On bad days, he was at best useless and at worst a danger to his friends through his lack of defensive skills. 

“You seem like a pack,” Cora said. “The way you act as a unit. The way you play to each other’s strengths.”

“Only two of us are werewolves,” Stiles pointed out.

“So?” Cora said with a shrug. “You wouldn’t be the first humans to be in a pack, and no chance you’d be the last.”

“Really?” Stiles said. He’d researched as much as possible when Scott was bitten, but he didn’t find a lot on human involvement in packs.

“Some packs prefer to be exclusive, but they’re dying out,” Derek explained, his tone derisive. “Humans make packs stronger. They anchor us to our humanity and remind us that there's more to power than physical strength. They’re necessary.”

“Packs with humans are more balanced,” Cora agreed. “Like our pack was.”

“And our pack will be again.” Derek spoke like it was a mantra. If he just said it enough times he could make it true somehow.

“So you think having Stiles in your pack will make it more balanced?” the Sheriff asked.

Derek shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I hope so. It would be nice to have you in our pack, but like I said, you’re in McCall’s pack. I don’t want you to feel like you have to choose.”

“So I could be in both 'packs.'” Stiles used his fingers to make air quotes because he still didn’t think he and his friends qualified as a pack.

“Both, or you can stay in your pack and still be my omega.” Derek’s eyes flicked over to Stiles’ father. “If you wanted.”

“Dinner’s probably ready,” Stiles said, and escaped to the kitchen. It didn’t take much to put the finishing touches on the meal and start bringing dishes out to the dining room table they rarely used to actually eat. He’d set it earlier so he wouldn’t have to worry about it.

“Do you want a hand?” Derek called.

“I’ve got it, you can all come take a seat.” Stiles made a few more trips to the kitchen before sitting down with the others so they could start passing the food around.

“This looks great,” Derek said as he handed the potatoes to Cora.

Stiles beamed at him until his father cleared his throat.

“Stiles put it together,” the Sheriff said. “You cook at all, Derek?”

“Some,” Derek said. “Nothing like this.”

“Better than Erica,” Cora said. “She burns water.”

“Isaac is better than me though,” Derek insisted.

“What about Boyd?” Stiles asked.

“He refuses to take a turn in the kitchen, but last week these cookies showed up that no one will claim, so I think he’s harbouring a secret talent,” Derek said. 

“You and your pack rotate chores then?” The Sheriff asked.

Derek shrugged. “When we can. Nothing formal or anything, just whoever has the time or energy.”

“High school tends to put a damper on your free time,” Cora said, and she shared a look with her brother that Stiles didn’t understand.

“And what about you, Derek,” the Sheriff started. “You have a job?”

“Dad,” Stiles cautioned.

“Stiles,” the Sheriff returned. “I’m trying to get to know our guests.”

“Or staging an interrogation,” Stiles muttered.

“This is much better food than interrogations usually have,” Derek said, then at the Sheriff’s sharp look he added, “Sorry. I’m a contractor. I have a couple jobs lined up at the moment, but not a lot so I’m mostly working on our building while I look for bids.”

“Your apartment building?” The Sheriff pressed.

“Yeah, Cora and I live upstairs and I’m renovating the rest,” Derek explained. “We plan to have the pack live in some of the apartments and rent out the rest.” 

The Sheriff added more pepper to his carrots. “It won’t bother you having strangers so close to your territory?”

“They won’t be strangers for long,” Derek said with a shrug. “I got used to it in New York. Besides, it won’t be permanent. After I finish the building, I’ll start on the old house.”

Everyone was familiar with the charred ruin where the Hale’s used to live out in the preserve. The Sheriff had been called out many, many times on reports of teens skulking around the building looking for a thrill. He’d often complained to Stiles that he didn’t see what was so “thrilling” about a house where so many people had died. 

“You’re planning to rebuild?” The Sheriff asked, instead of bringing up the morbid-minded members of their town.

Cora made a grumbling noise and Derek reached over to flick her ear without looking at her. “We haven’t decided if we want to rebuild or start from scratch. Maybe something in between.”

The Sheriff nodded agreement. “And how are you going to pay for these renovations?”

Stiles smacked a hand to his face. “Jesus, Dad.”

“Well, if he’s not working that much, how is he supposed to finance two different projects?” The Sheriff held out his hands defensively.

“Dead people,” Cora said, munching on a cooked carrot.

“Cora, don’t,” Derek said.

“Derek, no one will hire you,” Cora said. “You’re going to use the insurance money anyway.”

“I’ll get work eventually, I just have to wait until everyone…” Derek broke off, eyes flicking to Stiles and then down to his plate as he half heartedly finished with, “forgets.”

Stiles stomach clenched. “You’re not working because of the kidnapping.”

Derek gave an awkward shrug and the Sheriff said, “I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

Cora snorted. “Sure there is. Derek’s good at his work, but you’re an awfully well respected man, Sheriff. Who wants to risk pissing you off when there’s plenty of other contractors in town?”

The Sheriff stared at her, chewing slowly, and Cora stared back. Derek wouldn’t look at anyone and Stiles wanted to sink into his chair and disappear. Instead, he said brightly, “So, tell me about New York.” 

They managed to get most of the way through the meal on lighter topics. Stiles enjoyed hearing more about Derek’s life and hobbies, and was intrigued by the little things Cora let slip about her time in foster care.

Stiles was hoping he’d get through the evening without any more embarrassment, but when he served dessert his dad asked, “So, Derek, you plan on having kids?”

Derek choked a little on his torte and Stiles groaned. “Will you cut it out already? This is our first dinner, Dad, it’s not like I’m asking him to marry me.”

“I would, though,” Derek said. He blinked and cleared his throat like he hadn’t meant to say that. “I mean if you wanted to.”

“Oh.” Stiles flushed with pleasure. Derek hadn’t really given much indication of how he felt about Stiles, only that he was willing to help with the bond. Surely he wouldn’t offer to marry someone he didn’t at least like, right?

“No,” the Sheriff said, pointing at Stiles, then at Derek. “No.”

Cora laughed and punched her brother in the shoulder. “You’re such a goober. You lectured the pack for an hour last night about ‘exploring our potential’, and “not limiting ourselves with too many commitments too early.”

“That’s because Erica was threatening to quit school and go find a sugar daddy. They were valid points,” Derek insisted.

Cora caught the face the Sheriff made and doubled over, clutching her stomach with laughter.

“Cora,” Derek growled. “She wouldn’t really,” he said earnestly. “She was mostly joking. Boyd would stop her anyway.”

“I don’t know, she’s been rocking the sex kitten vibe since she was bitten,” Stiles said.

“Kitten!” The Sheriff sputtered. 

Stiles smirked gleefully. “Who’s embarrassed now?”

His dad pushed his plate away. “Well, that’s about all I can handle, let’s get down to business.”

“What?” Stiles said, grin falling away.

The Sheriff ignored him, focusing on Derek. “Alright, Hale. According to his doctor, my son had bonded with someone, and according to my son, that someone is you. I can’t say I’m pleased about it, but bonds aren’t easy to break and I don’t want Stiles to go through anything that painful if he doesn’t have to, so we're all gonna try and make this work.” Derek nodded and the Sheriff continued. “Now, this doctor thinks Stiles will feel better if he has regular contact with you. I don’t care if he meets you somewhere or you come here, as long as he checks in with me. If I don’t know where he is, I’m coming after you.”

“If Stiles doesn’t tell you where he is, it’s Derek’s fault?” Cora crossed her arms.

“I know my kid, it’s a good incentive,” he told her then refocused on Derek. “If I find out you’ve hurt him, or upset him--”

“I’ll try not to, I swear I will, but I’m not good with people,” Derek cut in. “It’s going to happen, but I’ll try to fix it when it does.”

Stiles nudged his father’s side. “You know I’m kind of an asshole. I can handle myself.”

The Sheriff snorted, but agreed. “Be that as it may, there's a line, and if you cross it, I’ll be holding you accountable.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek said quietly.

“Good. Now, doctor’s orders, you should see Stiles at least twice a week.” Stiles started to protest that that didn’t seem like nearly enough, but the Sheriff put a hand over his mouth and continued. “I think it would be better if he saw you more, at least until he balances out. I won’t have his grades slipping because he’s not able to focus.”

Derek blinks and looks at Stiles suddenly. “How did your test go?”

Stiles pushed his dad’s hand away. “I only got a ‘B’ because he didn’t tell me that we had to use a specific format that he showed the rest of the class the day of the test.”

Cora made a noise of disgust. “Harris is such an asshole. I was so ready for that test and then he changed it last minute.”

“A ‘B’ is good though,” Derek said.

“Stiles is on the honour roll. B is a serious backslide for him,” his dad explained. “Cora, don’t call your teacher an asshole, I’m sure he had a reason for encouraging that format. Stiles would have done better if he’d had more time after he got out of the hospital.”

Stiles exchanged a look with Cora, happy to find a someone who shared his loathing and outrage.

“I’m sure it will take time to find the right balance, but Stiles needs to see you enough to keep the bond from causing trouble, but not so much that he isn’t getting his school work done.”

“You could come over and study with the pack tomorrow if you wanted,” Cora offered, and Derek nodded with a hesitant smile.

Stiles wasn’t really sure about spending time with the pack, but Cora wasn’t so bad, and they were clearly important to Derek. If this was going to work, he’d have to get used to them eventually. “Sure.”

“Well, then,” the Sheriff said getting to his feet. “Stiles, see our guests to the door while I get started on the dishes.”

“We could help,” Derek offered but Stiles’ dad waved him off.

Stiles lead the Hales out to the front door. Cora gave Derek another affectionate punch in the arm and said, “I’ll wait in the car.” She winked at Stiles as she left.

“So.” Stiles shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“You’ll come over after school?” Derek asked.

“Yep.” Obviously they were about to say good bye, and Stiles didn’t really know how. He wanted Derek to hug him again, but he wasn’t sure if that was appropriate considering they didn’t really know each other that well. Then again, they knew each other well enough to form a _bond_ , so that had to count for something.

“Do you want a ride over or…?” Derek offered.

“Nah, I’ll take my jeep.” Stiles liked the freedom of knowing he could leave whenever he wanted. “It’s the old warehouse district, right? Corner of Warner and Price?”

“That’s the one,” Derek said. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“See you tomorrow,” Stiles said. He took his hands out of his pockets and tried to look approachable, but he didn’t really know what that meant. 

Derek reached out to touch Stiles’ neck, but before he made contact be pulled back. “Sorry--”

Stiles snatched Derek’s retreating hand and put it flush against the side of his neck, tilting his head to make room. Derek’s palm was warm, and the heat seemed to radiate out, pulling tension from Stiles’ whole body and infusing his brain with feelings of _safe_ and _mine_. 

“Can I--?” Derek started stepping closer to Stiles, who nodded eagerly. Derek brought his other hand around to brace Stiles’ back and brushed their cheeks together. He could already feel the prickle of a five-o’clock-shadow starting, and it made him shiver. 

All too soon, Derek stepped back, glancing behind him at the kitchen. “Tomorrow.” He gave Stiles’ throat one more brush of his hand and left.

Stiles sat down on the stairs for a minute. He felt strange. Calmer than he had all week, but an odd ache sat in his chest. He listened as Derek’s car started and thought _don’t go, I wasn’t done yet_. He silenced the thought with the reminder that he’d see Derek again soon. If he was lucky, he’d get more than a quick hug. He wondered how much Derek had told his pack about the situation, and if they were more likely to help or hinder.

***

As soon as Stiles entered their classroom, Scott’s head whipped around, and his eyes flared red. Stiles was running late, so they didn’t have time to talk before the bell rang, but Mrs. Johnston was renowned for her love of group work, and not giving a shit who they worked with. Sure enough, they hadn’t been in class more than fifteen minutes when she told them to split up into pairs.

“What’s going on?” Scott asked as soon as they slid their chairs together.

“Well, I think she wants us to categorize--” Stiles said, knowing full well that wasn’t what Scott meant. He smirked when Scott cut him off.

“Not that. First you went to the hospital, then you’ve been spacey and more wired than normal this week, and now you come to school smelling like Derek Hale. What is going on?” Scott’s eyes were filled with concern.

Stiles looked at him, surprised. “I showered this morning.”

“He touched you,” Scott said. He reached out to put his own hand where Derek’s had been, and Stiles pushed back before he could make contact.

“Just leave it,” Stiles said.

“Why?” Scott retracted his hand, but it was fisted from the effort.

Stiles sighed. “I didn’t know you could still smell anything, but I like knowing it’s there.”

“You like knowing werewolves can smell Derek Hale on you,” Scott echoed. “Derek. Hale.”

Stiles let his head fall onto his desk with a thump and sighed. Then he told his best friend all about the bond, last night's awkward dinner, and his plans to see Derek that night.

“Did he do it on purpose?” Scott asked.

“What?” Stiles jolted up from the desk. “He had no way of knowing my heat would be triggered. Even I didn’t know. And if he did plan it, what would he gain? Wouldn’t he have tried to contact me before instead of avoiding me?”

“He’d gain you,” Scott said simply, and Stiles had to smile. No one boosted his confidence like Scott. “I don’t trust him, Stiles. I know he had a reason for what he did, but still.”

“I know,” Stiles said. “But if it were you or Dad who had been taken, and I was in that position, I can’t say for sure that I wouldn’t do the exact same thing he did. The police he’d dealt with before didn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

Scott gave a half nod, but pointed out, “The fact that he’s dealt with police multiple times is an indication in and of itself that he’s trouble.”

Stiles scoffed. “That’s not fair. It’s not his fault his family members keep getting murdered.”

Scott didn’t have anything to refute that. “I guess. I still don’t trust him.”

“I know,” Stiles said. “I can’t explain why I feel so connected to him. But I’ve felt like shit for a while now, and when he’s around, it’s better.”

“Okay,” Scott said. “But if he does anything, anything at all, you know all you have to do is say the word.”

“Thanks, Scotty.” Stiles really hoped he’d never feel he had to take him up on that offer, but it was nice to know he could.

Scott smiled and looked down at the assignment Mrs. Johnston had handed out. “Okay, so I know I said I knew what we were supposed to be doing with this worksheet, but I think I’ve changed my mind.”

The rest of the day crawled by. Jackson could smell Derek on Stiles too, so at lunch he had to explain to the whole group what was happening. They were just as suspicious as Scott, and more than a little outraged. They understood that it would be best for Stiles if he could make things work with Derek, but they only agreed to that solution if Derek proved to truly not be the bad guy he’d played in their first meeting.

Despite Stiles’ reassurances, all four of them escorted him to the parking lot after school. Stiles had grabbed a parking spot a few spaces away from the pack’s, thinking he’d follow them over. Cora didn’t spare Stiles’ friends a glance as she walked over.

“Boyd’s driving, so I’ll ride with you. Wouldn’t want you to get lost,” she said.

Jackson eyed their car with a smirk. “Nice ride,” he said, sneering at the SUV.

“Thanks,” Erica said with a sharp smile. “Our alpha got it for us.”

Jackson gave a short laugh. “Your alpha drives a Camaro and he bought you a Toyota mom car?”

“He values our safety more than a flashy name,” Isaac said, giving a sideways look to Jackson’s nearby porsche. 

Jackson’s jaw clenched and Stiles winced. It was uncomfortable how common knowledge it was that Jackson’s parents would rather shower him with gifts that actually spend time with him.

“Go home,” Cora growled, and the three betas got into the car. She smiled at Stiles’ friends and gave a quick wave. “See you in class.” She and Stiles got into the jeep and followed Boyd out of the parking lot.

After a pointed pause where they both waited to be out of distance from prying werewolf ears, Cora said, “How much do you know about Derek’s past?”

“Some,” Stiles said with a shrug. “I’ve read his police file.”

“What?” Cora’s glare snapped over to him.

Stiles flopped a hand at her. “Relax, I’ve read the police files of almost everyone in Beacon Hills.”

“That isn’t as reassuring as you seem to think,” Cora said. “So you’ve read about the fire then?”

“Some of it,” Stiles said. He knew that an anti-werewolf extremist had trapped them inside and lit the match, but he didn’t know the details because after the first picture he’d freaked out. His dad had found him mid-panic attack in the records room, and hid the file so he wouldn’t look again.

Cora tapped her fingers on her thigh. “Obviously the fire had a big impact on the three of us. Derek, Laura, and I. But Derek was the most affected. He couldn’t eat, couldn't sleep. He’d get into these states where he’d just stare at you and say “I’m sorry,” over and over again.”

“Does he still…?” Stiles started but he couldn’t quite finish the question.

“I don’t think so,” Cora said. “Laura saw to that. She made sure he got the therapy and support he needed. He was doing really well when she died. That’s why they’d asked to bring me home.”

Stiles tapped at his steering wheel. “Does that have something to do with why you were put in the care system in the first place?”

Cora nodded. “Laura was barely twenty. They didn’t think she could handle a ten year old who’d just lost her whole family on top of a sixteen year old in the midst of a mental breakdown for the same thing. She had to choose, and we both felt Derek needed her more.”

Stiles couldn’t fathom making that kind of decision. Only two family members left, and Laura Hale wasn’t allowed to keep them together.

“I’m not telling you this because I want you to pity us, or so your friends will stop blaming him for what happened,” Cora said. “I just want you to understand him a little more. He’s doing better, but he’s still...He needs his pack. And sometimes all the shit just builds up in his head and he thinks the people he cares about would be better off without him. So if he tries to push you away, keep in mind, it’s probably not about you.”

“Alright,” Stiles said quietly. “Thank you for telling me.” He knew he’d mull that over a lot more later, but for now, they’d arrived at the apartment building and Stiles’ nerves were back in full force.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek has no chill. That's okay, because Stiles doesn't either.

***

“Shit,” Derek cursed as his knife sliced his finger instead of the celery he was cutting. “Dammit.” He jerked the tap on cold and shoved his finger under it. The cut itself was already healing, but it still hurt like a bitch. Stupid fingers with all their stupid nerve endings.

It didn’t take long for the pain to fade and Derek shut off the water when only his pride still stung. That was the second time he’d cut himself while trying to make the pack an after school snack. Derek considered himself to be fairly familiar with the kitchen. Not the best cook, but nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn’t like him to be distracted enough for his hand to slip once, let alone twice.

It also wasn’t usual for him to smack his head off the counter when cleaning every inch of the bathroom.

Nor did he usually stub his toe, but he could swear the coffee table broke one while he rearranged his living room furniture. Then put it back the way it was.

After he finished the celery and grabbed a plate from the cupboard, Derek had to admit there was a reason for his clumsiness. He wasn’t just cleaning to pass the time, and this wasn’t any old snack. _Stiles_ was coming. 

“Shit,” Derek muttered again. “What the hell am I doing?” His wolf had been restless all day, alive with the need to provide for his omega. It was a need that Derek had pushed down hard after that day in the warehouse, and now that he had permission to let it out, his instincts, both wolf and human, were hitting him hard. 

Doubt kept battering at his mind as hard as the wolf did. Did Stiles really want this? What if he was just stuck with Derek because of that badly timed heat? The Sheriff certainly didn’t seem too keen on him. Derek had tried as hard as he could to present himself as a respectable alpha, worthy of someone like Stiles, but he’d also wanted to be honest. Those two things didn’t necessarily mix, and he thought the Sheriff had seen right through him.

Did he even want to be with Stiles? He didn’t really know him that well. Derek picked through the food he’d cut up, finding the reddest strawberries, and the ripest bell peppers to put on a plate for Stiles. His wolf twisted and chuffed in pleasure. _Of course we want Stiles, can’t you smell him?_

“Shit, shit, fuck, shut up.” Derek pressed his hands to his eyes. Okay, fine. He wanted Stiles. But what about Stiles? He was so damn young, did he really know what he wanted?

The sounds of his pack clattering up the stairs broke into his thoughts and reminded him that age didn’t always signal readiness. Derek watched affectionately as the loft door slid open, Erica sashaying inside with the boys on her heels. She was in the middle of some story he didn’t understand that had Isaac grinning and Boyd watching her with fondness.

“Oh, alpha, my alpha,” she cried, leaning across the counter to grab Derek’s face. “Did you pine for us all day?” 

Derek gave a derisive snort, by which he meant _yes, of course, always_. Isaac came around the counter and bumped into Derek’s side on his way to grab sodas from the fridge. Boyd was always slower to seek out physical contact, but Derek could wait. They’d get there in time. 

Derek felt his whole body tense in anticipation just before Cora lead Stiles inside.

“I know it still looks a bit industrial, but we're working on it,” Cora said, gesturing to the needlepoint pillow on the couch that read _Fuck You_. Derek had considered hiding it for the day, but he’d left it in a place of honour instead. This was who they were, and he liked it. He just hoped Stiles did too.

Stiles snorted at the pillow, looked around the space, then settled his eyes on Derek.

Derek gave a hesitant smile, then tracking movement out of the corner of his eye, he snapped at Erica, baring his teeth till she pulled her hand back.

“What? I’m hungry,” she said eyeing the plate in front of Derek.

“Not from this,” Derek said. “There’s two more trays, take from that.” He picked up the plate, guarding it close so she didn’t get any ideas. He snagged Stiles’ wrist on his way by and pulled him over to the couch. “They usually work on homework here.”

“Okay.” Stiles stripped off his backpack and sat down.

Boyd and Erica each grabbed a tray and brought them over to the table while Cora and Isaac collected drinks for everyone. 

Derek sat next to Stiles, even though he usually chose the armchair in the corner. He waited until Stiles was settled in with his textbook and notepad before sliding a little closer and offering him the food.

“I can take some from the big tray if you want,” Stiles said, eyeing Erica. “If you don’t want to share.”

Derek hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to explain that he’d prepared the plate for Stiles, not himself, without sounding overbearing. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked. “Because you don’t have--”

“Take the damn food, Stilinski, he wants you to,” Erica said with a menacing crunch of her celery.

“Then he can offer it to me his own damn self,” Stiles said sharply. 

“Is that so?” Erica pushed herself up from her slouch on the other couch into a sitting position.

“Take some,” Derek said quickly, shoving the plate at Stiles and shooting Erica a pleading look. He just wanted today to go well. If they could just get past the initial tension and get to know each other, he was sure they’d get along great. In the meantime, there was a lot of history to overcome.

Stiles juggled the plate on top of his textbook and selected a strawberry. Derek caught himself staring and forced himself to look away. 

Isaac was spreading his things out on the floor between the couches, so Derek nudged him with a foot. “How did the English test go?”

It had taken a lot of time before Derek could ask a question like that and not send Isaac into a panic, and even longer to get more than one word answers of “good,” “fine,” or “okay.” 

Isaac shrugged. “Alright, I think. Some of the questions were kind of out there, and I don’t remember reading about them in the book, but I think I passed. It’s probably decent.”

“Ms. Blake is weird,” Erica said, then she smirked. “I guess we can’t try and set her up with Derek at the parent-teacher conference anymore.”

“What?” Stiles said, already tense from going rigid.

“That was never going to happen,” Derek said, to reassure both himself and Stiles.

“I think you would have made a cute couple,” Erica said sweetly.

“I don’t know what it says about either of us that you would call your teacher weird and the next breath say we’d be good together,” Derek said. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s not happening, it was never, ever, going to happen.”

“Ms. Blake is really nice,” Stiles said, picking at his nail. “She’s probably closer to your age.”

“I don’t-- I’m not--” Derek tried. “No.”

“No?” A smile tugged at Stiles’ mouth.

“No,” Derek said more firmly.

Stiles smirked at Erica. “Well, there you have it. No Ms. Blake.”

Erica crossed her arms and Derek braced himself. He recognized that glint in her eye and it only came out when she was about to cut someone to pieces. “Don’t look so satisfied. If you hadn’t gone into heat and bonded with the first alpha in sight you probably wouldn’t be here.”

“If you hadn’t hit me in the face with my own carburetor while _kidnapping_ me, I wouldn’t have been stressed out enough to induce my heat earlier, and Derek wouldn’t have touched me.” Stiles’ whole body was bristling and Derek could see Erica falter. “You think I don’t know that this wasn’t his choice? It sure as hell wasn’t mine.”

That hit Derek in the chest and Erica’s posture drooped, and she mumbled, “We didn’t _want_ to kidnap you.” 

“I know that,” Stiles snapped. “But you did, and now I have to deal with the consequences of that.” Stiles rubbed his face tiredly. “You never even said sorry.”

“I _am_ sorry,” Erica said. Stiles looked dubious. “I’m sorry about the carburetor and I’m sorry we took you. I’m sorry you didn’t have the choice, but Derek’s a good alpha. He is.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Isaac said from the floor. “I should have noticed you were injured sooner.”

Boyd gave a solemn nod. “Sorry.”

“I’m not apologizing for being kidnapped,” Cora said. “It wasn’t exactly something I agreed to, either.”

Stiles laughed. “Well, then, neither am I.” Stiles turned to Derek. “I’m also not going to apologize for bonding with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Derek said quickly. “It was my fault for--”

“No, it wasn’t,” Stiles said. “You made some shit choices and all, but you never planned for this to happen. How could you? And besides, it doesn’t matter if you're an alpha or not, if the chemistry wasn't there, the bond wouldn’t have formed.”

“Really?” Erica asked, voicing Derek’s own disbelief.

“Yep.” Stiles took a grape off Derek's plate and popped it in his mouth. “It’s basic biology. It’s just not covered in schools. But don’t get me started on that.”

“That’s...good,” Erica said slowly. She was looking at Stiles with much less hostility now.

“So,” Cora said. “Stiles, let me see your chemistry notes.”

“Chemistry is my worst subject,” Stiles said. 

“Yeah, because you keep trying to get Harris to clarify his contradictions instead of sitting in confused silence like the rest of us,” Cora said. “I just want to see if we're on the same page for nuclear changes. Or even the same book.”

Stiles handed over his binder and repositioned the notebook he’d pulled out. He flipped to the right page of his textbook with a flourish and settled in to copy things over. 

The study session started out quiet, but as the students started cursing their classes and comparing notes, it got louder. Derek managed to feed Stiles most of the food on the plate. Having his pack around him made it easier for Derek to relax, so he didn’t panic when Stiles migrated closer to him, and just enjoyed the feeling of him against his side.

“Stiles, do you like pizza?” Erica asked lightly as she put the final touches on an essay.

“Who doesn’t?” Stiles said.

Erica smiled up at Derek from where she’d slid onto the floor with Isaac. “Derek, I bet Stiles is hungry. You should order him pizza.”

Derek’s instinct to provide kicked in and he had his phone and credit card out before he even thought about it. “Erica,” he growled.

Erica gave an exaggerated pout. “I’m hungry. We’ve been studying all afternoon.”

Stiles threw a paper airplane at her head. “Don’t use my omega status for your own gain, it’s sleazy.” Then he turned wide, falsely innocent eyes on Derek. “I really am hungry though.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but his stomach was twisting with the desire to have Stiles stay and eat with them. Like packs do. “If you want to stay and order pizza, you just have to ask.”

“Can I stay and order pizza?” Stiles said with a cheeky smile.

Derek pulled up the number in his phone. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

“Where are you ordering from?” Stiles asked, looking at Derek’s screen with a frown.

“Fellini's,” Derek said.

“Ew, no, why? I thought you _liked_ pizza,” Stiles said with exaggerated gagging.

Cora winced, and Derek looked at the floor. “Fellini's is the only place that will deliver out here.”

“Why?” Stiles asked. “Is it the elevator? Someone could meet them downstairs.” Derek shook his head and Stiles poked him. “Come on, this area isn’t that bad.”

“They won’t deliver because Beacon Hills is too small and everyone thinks they know what happened, when they really don’t, and everyone likes Melissa McCall, they’re terrified of Chris Argent, and your dad falls somewhere in between,” Cora said. “Whittemore is out of town more often than not, but he isn’t above the pettiness of making things difficult for people, and if you ever want to cater anything, you’d better not be on Natalie Martin’s shit list.”

Stiles stared at her for a moment, then flipped his notebook to a new page. “I’ll order it then. What do you want?”

“Medium veggie!” Erica shouted, bouncing up onto the couch.

“Pepperoni and sausage,” Isaac said.

Erica grabbed the pen. “Are you ordering somewhere with wings? Get wings.”

“Oh, and breadsticks,” Isaac added.

Derek thought it said a lot about Stiles that he didn’t blink at the sheer quantity of food that they ordered, but then, he did have a pack of his own. When he placed their order he waited until the end of the call to say, “Oh, and Karen, I’m at a friend’s house, so I’ll need it delivered here instead of Scott’s place.” He flapped his hand at Cora to write down their address. “Yeah, it’s that industrial area, but don’t worry, I understand you guys are busy, I’ll come downstairs to get it. No, I insist, I don’t want to inconvenience Frank. Thanks, Karen, you’re the best.” He hung up the phone quickly. “Okay, so who’s gonna help me carry all that?”

 

“I will,” Cora said. Derek hoped that in time, Cora wouldn’t feel she had to be the liaison between the pack and the world, but for now he was grateful.

When the food arrived, Erica put a movie on. Stiles sat on the couch again, this time between Derek and Cora. When they’d all had their fill, it felt natural to tug Stiles closer to him. They settled with Stiles’ back against Derek’s chest, and Cora poked at Stiles’ knees until he put his feet in her lap. Erica, Isaac, and Boyd stole the cushions off the other couch so they could settle in front of them for a better view.

Derek hadn’t felt so at ease since Laura died, maybe even before. He tightened his arm around Stiles’ waist. Stiles felt like home after a very long trip far away. Derek didn’t want to leave again.

***

The itch beneath Stiles’ skin had finally been calmed. Heat radiated from Derek’s body, warming Stiles like sun on a beach. The absence of tension and the addition of calming heat made Stiles’ eyes droop. He didn’t think the movie was so close to ending but suddenly the credits were rolling and the betas were standing up.

Stiles didn’t want to get up.

He wasn’t ready to sever contact with Derek, he didn’t want to stop sitting with him and deal with the void that would open in his place.

Cora patted Stiles’ foot. “Your dad will be expecting you home soon, won’t he?”

“Maybe.” His dad wasn’t on the night shift, but he didn’t always get home when planned. Stiles might be going home to a dark empty house.

“Give me your phone,” Derek said, and Stiles could feel the way his voice rumbled in his chest.

Stiles shifted his hips and dug it out of his pocket, passing the cell back. “Why?”

“You should text me when you get home,” Derek said. “So I know you made it okay.”

“Okay.” Stiles took the phone back and put it firmly in his pocket. If he had his number, he could still be connected to Derek, could see him again soon. He used that thought as momentum to get himself up off the couch and to grab his backpack . “See you Monday,” he said, waving to the betas.

Derek walked him down to his jeep. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Thanks for having me,” Stiles said automatically. Wouldn’t his parents be proud, all that nagging after birthday parties had paid off. Derek nodded and they stared at each other, neither of them sure what to do from there. When Stiles buckled under the level of awkwardness in the air he said a quick, “Bye,” hopped in his jeep and drove away.

He wished he’d hugged Derek goodbye or something because when he got home, the house was empty. He didn’t like echoing through it by himself. He’d had years of practice but it never got any better, and he ended up doing weird things just to distract himself, going places late at night, just so he wasn’t alone. Well, he used to. Then Scott was bitten and it didn’t really have the same appeal.

Stiles went through his night time routine, hoping the familiar monotony would settle him back down to the almost sleep he’d reached at Derek’s. He settled into bed and as he was plugging his phone in to charge he remembered he was supposed to text Derek. He shot off a generic home and safe text to both Derek and his dad before hugging his pillow and willing sleep to come.

It didn’t, but a text from Derek did. 

_Good. Do you like hiking?_

Stiles hadn’t really spent much time outdoors since running for his life became a frequent event, but he’d been on the cross country running team for years. _Yeah, haven’t done it for a while though._

_I’m taking the betas out to the preserve tomorrow. I have to spend some time training them, but you could come._

Stiles was composing a response when another text came through.

_It’s okay if you have plans. Or just don’t want to. That’s fine._

Stiles frowned at his phone. _Did you just invite me then uninvite me?_

_No. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to say yes. I’d like you to come, but only if you want to._

_I’d like to come. I like the preserve._ While sorting out the time and place, they talked about their favourite activities in the woods, and how much better it felt to run outside, instead of around in circles or in place on a treadmill. Stiles fell asleep with his phone in his hand. 

Saturday was spent with the pack, and Sunday, Derek dropped by with tiramisu. Stiles didn’t see him every day after that, but it was a near thing. Sometimes he’d spend all afternoon in Derek’s loft, and other days he’d only see him for a brief moment before school. They texted every day, though, and that helped bridge that gap so Stiles didn’t feel so desperate between visits. Stiles liked how much he could get to know Derek from texting him, how much easier it seemed for Derek to open up. Sometimes, Stiles had too many words in his head to type them out, so he’d call Derek and pour them out that way.

The more time Stiles spent with Derek, the better he was able to concentrate, so his grades were climbing back to where he wanted them. He was also getting to know Derek’s pack as people, rather than extensions of Derek. When they let their guard down, Stiles could see the people they were when they’d been in grade school together. The Erica from before her seizures had shattered her self esteem, and the Isaac before his family broke apart. Boyd, Stiles realized, he’d never really known, and that was a damn shame.

The biggest issue Stiles had now was balancing time with Derek and time with his friends. He saw all four of them during school, of course, but it wasn’t the same, and Stiles found himself missing a lot of group activities because he needed his Derek fix. No one complained, but he could tell by the way Lydia pursed her lips, and Scott would give a concerned frown that they weren’t happy about it.

After their initial questions about how Stiles’ first visit had gone, his friends hadn’t really asked him about Derek at all. They respected him enough not to question his choice, but they were still too wary of the Hale pack to really accept it. So Stiles felt like he couldn’t talk about it without putting them in an awkward position. It made the disconnect feel even wider.

He might have gone on like that, stretching himself between the people he cared about, if Lydia hadn’t decided to break their unspoken barrier.

“Bring Derek to my house on Friday.”

Stiles stopped thoroughly dunking his chicken nugget in ketchup and stared at her across the cafeteria table. “What?”

“Bring Derek on Friday,” Lydia said. “That’s why you're not coming, isn’t it? Because you need to see him. So bring him with you.”

Stiles set down his nugget. “Are you sure everyone would be comfortable with that?”

“No,” Allison said from beside Lydia.

“It’s my house, so I can invite whoever I want,” Lydia said, glaring at Allison. “I’m inviting Derek. It’s high time he introduced himself properly.”

“More of a royal summons than an invitation,” Cora said, suddenly sitting beside Stiles.

“Holy hello,” Stiles said, clutching his heart.

“What are you doing?” Jackson asked with a sneer. Cora, and the rest of the pack for that matter, had never approached them at school before.

“I’m looking out for my brother’s best interests,” Cora said coolly. “If you force him to go somewhere isolated from his pack and interrogate him, he’s not going to react well. That’s counterproductive for all of us.”

“I don’t want to interrogate him,” Lydia said.

“Lie,” Cora said. “You want to grill him for all he’s worth.”

“He’d bonded to one of my best friends,” Lydia said. “If it were anyone else, I’d have already met them and made damn sure they were good enough for him.”

“He _is_ good enough, but he doesn’t believe that, so he won’t try to convince you,” Cora insisted. “In fact, he’ll do his best to prove you right. You won’t get to know Derek by dragging him over by himself.”

Lydia huffed. “Then what do you propose we do? We have to start somewhere.”

“Invite the whole pack,” Cora said. Protests rose from the table, and she held up a hand, talking over them. “‘A pack is a reflection of its alpha.' That’s what everyone says. You can’t get to know Derek without getting to know us. He won’t be so agitated if he has us with him.”

More protests shot up from around the table, but this time it was Scott who called for silence. “I think it's a good idea. The whole point of Stiles trying to make this work is so he doesn’t have to go through breaking the bond. That means Derek and his pack aren’t going anywhere. We should at least _try_ to get along with them. We don’t have to be best buds or anything, but it's not fair to Stiles to have to separate such a big part of his life.”

“Thanks, man,” Stiles said. “I don’t want to force you guys into anything, but it's been hard trying not to talk about them when I’m with you.”

“Bring your appetite,” Lydia told Cora. “I’ll take care of everything else.”

***

Friday night was just as tense as Derek thought it would be. His pack arrived together, and set up camp huddled as a group in a corner of the kitchen. Stiles’ friends shifted to the other side of the room, and Stiles was left hovering in the middle. Derek hated putting him in that position, but that’s why he was here, wasn’t it? So Stiles wouldn’t feel so torn.

“That’s Allison,” Scott said, as the front door opened.

Allison’s boots clicked down the hall and into the room. She shot Derek and his pack a glare as she went over to kiss Scott hello.

“Fashionably late is only fashionable at parties,” Lydia said passing Allison a drink.

“I almost wasn’t able to come at all. My parents are _not_ comfortable with this.” Allison tossed back the drink quickly. 

“Is that why they sent you with wolfsbane in your pocket?” Derek asked. He could smell it the second she walked in the door.

“What?” Stiles bristled. “Allison, do you have wolfsbane? You know how toxic that is, you could hurt someone.”

“I know that,” Allison hissed. “I didn’t want to carry it, it could hurt Scott, but it was the only way I could get them to agree to it.” She eyed the Hale pack again. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

“We could just go,” Derek offered. “We didn’t come to make things difficult for you.”

“No one’s leaving,” Lydia said, glaring at everyone like they’d dare head for the door. “And you're here for Stiles.” She pushed a dish closer to Derek. “Have some spinach dip.” 

Derek didn’t move from the safety of the corner. Stiles sighed and grabbed a plate, filling it with whatever he could reach and carrying it over. “So,” he said. “Isaac, how about that practice yesterday, huh?”

Isaac carefully took a sausage roll off the plate. “I thought Finstock was going to make us run suicides all night.”

“The running is bad enough, but his idea of motivation is bonkers,” Scott said. “Who thinks yelling 'bombs away, ladies!' is going to get us to run faster?”

Isaac laughed nervously, then everyone fell silent again.

Derek had never been good with people, and these people in particular weren’t big fans of his. He didn’t know how to get the night on track, but Stiles was starting to look discouraged, and his anxiety made Derek’s stomach hurt. He looked at Allison and said, “If it makes you feel any better, you broke my arm when I took you.” 

Allison’s eyes narrowed. “It healed,” she said warily. “Almost immediately.”

“Well, obviously,” Derek said with a shrug. “But it hurt like a bitch in the meantime.”

To Derek’s great shock, Allison smiled. “Yeah?”

“Definitely,” Derek assured her. “You really know how to defend yourself.”

“Lucky for you,” Lydia said tightly.

“Your nails are like knives, but you don’t know how to get traction,” Boyd told Lydia. “If you noticed the people around you and knew how to use them to your advantage, you might have gotten free long enough to get someone's attention.”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed on him. “How?”

Derek detached himself from his pack. “Can I show you?” Lydia nodded and Derek stepped in behind her. He walked her through the process of what to do if someone grabbed her from behind, how to use what she had against them and where they were most vulnerable. When she managed to dig her nails into the webbing of his thumb and finger hard enough to make him bleed, all he said was, “Ow,” then he wiped the blood off. “Do it again.”

Somehow the evening devolved into Allison and Derek showing them self defence maneuvers. Derek had been training his pack and they knew most of the moves already, so Derek got them to act as assailants or demonstrate.

Their lesson got so elaborate, they had to move to the living room so they’d have more space. Derek showed Jackson how to flip someone over his shoulder, and Cora burst out laughing.

“You gonna live?” Erica asked as Cora wiped tears from her eyes.

“Do you remember when Laura taught you that move?” she asked. “It was right after a rainstorm, and she flipped you right into a mud puddle.”

“I was wearing brand new jeans,” Derek said, a smile tugging at his mouth as twin grief and fondness went through him.

“You chased her around and threw mud in her hair,” Cora said. “Mom just laughed and said it’s good for your skin.”

“You were close?” Scott asked.

“Very,” Derek said. There weren’t really words to say how much Laura had meant to him. “She was a good sister.”

“I’m sorry you lost her,” Allison said.

“Thank you,” Derek said. “I know it doesn’t make up for it, but I hope you can understand why I couldn’t let anything happen to Cora. Not after losing everyone else.”

“You're not excused,” Lydia said. “But I think I might be closer to forgiving. You’ll just have to work for it.”

“I don’t mind hard work,” Derek said, but instead of looking at Lydia he looked at Stiles. “It’s worth it.”


	5. Chapter 5

***

_Do you use hair gel? Is it annoying to sleep with? Do you have to shower before bed so your pillow doesn’t get all gelly?_

_Stiles. It’s nearly three in the morning. Why are you awake?_

Stiles rolled over and punched his pillow a few times before replying. _Can’t sleep. My brain won’t turn off and my legs are restless. Sucks._

_Don’t you have a test tomorrow?_

_THANKS FOR THE REMINDER._ Stiles looked at the insulting glow of his alarm clock and counted how many hours of sleep he’d get if he fell asleep right now. It really wasn’t many. _Sorry. I’m just tired. Haven’t seen you in a couple days. Can I come over tomorrow?_

Derek was taking an unusually long time to reply. Stiles assumed he’d fallen asleep and wished he could do the same. 

The walls of his bedroom illuminated as a car pulled into their driveway. Stiles assumed it was someone turning around, until there was a knock on the door.

The Sheriff was downstairs, having only gotten home himself twenty minutes ago, so he opened the door as Stiles was coming down the stairs. “Derek, it’s the middle of the night.”

“I know,” Derek said. “But Stiles can’t sleep and he has a test tomorrow so...I thought I could help.”

The Sheriff looked Derek up and down, then looked up at Stiles, sighing to see him up and out of bed. “Leave the door open,” he told Derek, stepping back to let him in the house.

“Thanks, Dad,” Stiles said, rushing down to grab Derek’s wrist and pull him upstairs.

“Thank you, sir,” Derek called over his shoulder.

In the bedroom, Derek stripped off his jacket. “You came over in your PJs?” Stiles asked.

“We’re going straight to bed, I didn’t see the point in wasting time changing.” Derek herded Stiles onto the bed and got in behind him. “Turn that light off.”

Stiles complied and then tucked himself in against Derek’s chest. Derek’s arm went around Stiles’ waist, pinning him in place and anchoring him down. Stiles only managed a few minutes or so of silence before the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind pushed to the surface again. “How do you think people even get into competitive cup stacking?”

“Jesus, Stiles. Go to sleep.”

“Were they just bored or--”

“I don’t know. Sleep.”

***

“I swear this is going to be the best mac and cheese you’ve ever had.” Stiles pushed the car door shut and and walked toward the front entrance of the grocery store. “Cheesy and gooey and with bacon, dude. Bacon makes everything better.”

It took Stiles a moment to realize Derek wasn’t next to him any more. He looked around and found him twenty feet away, approaching Mrs. Goldstein. He gestured to her shopping bags, and she stepped back to give him space to load them into her car. When he was finished, she patted Derek’s cheek and handed him something. Derek returned to Stiles, unwrapping the toffee and popping it into his mouth.

“You’re a giant softy,” Stiles said.

Derek scowled at him. “What?” 

“You play good samaritan for little old ladies. You’re a softy,” Stiles said, poking Derek’s side.

“Maybe I just like the candy,” Derek said, shoving the wrapper into his pocket.

Stiles scoffed. “You didn’t know she’d give you candy when you went over there.”

“Yes, I did,” Derek said.

“How?”

“I could smell them in her pocket,” Derek said. “Also, she gave one to me last time.”

“See! You’ve done this before,” Stiles crowed. “You look like you're a bad boy with your leather jacket and fancy car and your stupid frowny face, but I’m onto you. Underneath all that, you're a big teddy bear.”

“I just gave her a hand, it was the nice thing to do,” Derek said.

“Exactly,” Stiles said, grabbing his jacket. Then he said again, softer. “Exactly. You’re a nice guy.” He kissed Derek slowly, savouring his first taste and carefully crossing that line. Derek looked dazed when he pulled away and Stiles patted his cheek. “You shall be rewarded with plentiful food.” 

He stepped back and Derek snaked an arm around his waist pulling him against his side. “I’d rather be rewarded with plenty of you.”

Stiles snorted when he laughed, but he didn’t say no to that either.

***

Technically, if Stiles was asked, the Sheriff was forbidden to set foot in the local diner. But what Stiles didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and the diner was a hub of information for a small town like Beacon Hills. He figured as long as he stuck to coffee he’d be fine.

“Pie, Sheriff?” Matilda the waitress asked. “We just finished a key lime.”

“Well, how can I say no to that?” The Sheriff asked, settling down on the stool. “What’s the buzz, Matilda?”

Matilda’s answer was cut off by Bud, the owner and cook, cursing the door between the counter and the kitchen. Matilda rolled her eyes. “Door keeps sticking. Bud’s been having a heck of a time.”

“Why doesn’t he call someone in to fix it?” The Sheriff asked.

“Our usual guy’s out of town,” Matilda shook her head. “You know Bud, if he can’t do it the exact same as he did last time, he doesn’t know where to start.”

“He should try Derek.” At Matilda’s inquiring look the Sheriff elaborated. “Derek Hale. I’m sure he could fit you in and sort it out.”

“Hale?” Bud came out from the kitchen panting. “Sheriff, I wouldn’t insult you by hiring a criminal.”

“Would you insult me by referring to the man my son is bonded to as a criminal?” Bud went pale and the Sheriff sighed. “It’s a complicated situation, Bud, but if Stiles trusts Derek, then so do I. Everyone deserves a second chance. I’d like to see Derek have the opportunity to prove that he’s more than that one lapse in judgement.”

“Speeding down Route 3 is a lapse in judgement,” Bud said. “He kidnapped people.”

“Only to try and protect his sister,” the Sheriff argued. He’d decided a while ago to try and look at the situation objectively. “It was a stupid thing to do, but I can’t say I blame him. Cora means the world to him. It’s that Deucalion character who’s really at fault. He’s the one that took her, blackmailed Derek, and intended to hurt those kids. Really, Derek’s as much of a victim as they are.”

“My Aunt Jo says he’s been helping out at her church every week to make up for it. Getting the place cleaned up nicely.” Matilda said. “I don’t know if he’s a good guy, all I know is if I run into that door one more time, I’ll start throwing plates.”

Right on time, one of the other waitresses tried to bring some empty plates to the back, but when she bumped her hip against the door, it didn’t budge. The impact sent the plates crashing the floor.

The Sheriff laughed as Bud cursed, then pulled out a pen to write down Derek’s number. “Give him a call, Bud, or you’ll have a revolt on your hands.”

***

It wasn’t that Derek hadn't had _any_ work since the _incident_. But he sure as hell hadn’t had a lot. On the rare occasions that he had been employed, the client usually made it very clear that they’d only hired him because no one else in town was available. A few assholes had tried to get him to do the work for less, figuring he’d be desperate, but Derek wasn’t going to undercut others’ prices for good work. He’d work for a reasonable wage or not at all.

The owner of the diner didn’t really seem comfortable with him. He talked like Derek was a little dumb or on the verge of a mental break. “I need the door to swing _both_ ways. Not just one, they gotta go _both_ directions. And I don’t want it swinging back and forth for ages either, just open, then close. In _both_ directions.”

Derek had nodded along, then got to work. It wasn’t a hard fix, and one of the waitresses, Matilda, chatted at him while he unscrewed the hinges. The others ignored him completely or watched him with suspicion in their eyes. 

Sanding down the door meant he got to escape outside. It wasn’t particularly warm out, but he ran hot so he didn’t mind. It was nice and quiet out there. Simple work on a nice day.

Matilda started talking to him again as soon as he came in. Chatting about the latest gossip she’d heard that day while he put the door back in place.

“You know, I’ve been thinking of redoing our kitchen,” Matilda told him. “They say it’s good to have a nice kitchen, right? Inspire you to use it.”

Derek nodded. “The kitchen’s the heart of a home.”

“Exactly,” she said. “My husband thinks he’s handy, though. Says it would be cheaper for him to do it himself, but who’s got the time?”

“Kitchen’s not something you want to draw out and only do on weekends,” Derek told her.

“That’s what I thought.” Matilda flashed him a victorious smile. “But he figures it will cost too much to get someone to do it.”

“Depends,” Derek said, crouching down to screw in the bottom hinge. “Do you want to pay someone to do it or pay someone to fix what your husband does?”

Matilda gave a full-bodied laugh before she went to take a new order. When she came back, Derek was nearly finished. “Hey, it’s not sticking,” she said, watching him push the door back and forth.

“Should be good now,” Derek said. “Just needed a little more room. If it gives you trouble let me know, I’ll come back.”

“That’s great,” she said. “And you got it done quick, too. Here, you sit and have some pie and I’ll go grab Bud to pay you.”

“It’s alright,” Derek said, packing up his tools quickly, but she shoved a piece of lemon meringue into his hands.

“Take a seat. I’ll be just a minute.” Matilda disappeared into the kitchen. Derek didn’t think she was the type of person to be argued with, so he sat. He grabbed a napkin to wipe his face when Bud came out and tried to look professional.

“Now this is what we pay our usual guy,” Bud said, sliding a cheque across the counter. “Sound alright to you?”

Derek looked down at the figure on the cheque. It was perfectly reasonable. A respectable amount for the work done, but not so outrageously high that it would clearly be charity. Derek wanted to tell Bud how grateful he was, but he didn’t have the words. Instead he said, “I’ll write you a receipt.”

Bud nodded. “I’ll have Matilda send some of that pie home for Stiles. You give the Sheriff my best.” He pushed back through the door with no problem.

Matilda came out the other way and did a little dance. “Hey girls, did you see that?” She called to the other waitresses, and they clapped and cheered as Matilda demonstrated with the swinging door. “You do good work, Derek Hale. You got a card or something? I’m gonna convince my husband that we need that kitchen.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from him." Derek fished a card out of his wallet. They’d been a gift from Laura, when he was first starting out. She’d insisted that what a businessman needed to make it was a card and a website, so she’d organized both. Derek hadn’t had much cause to use them lately, but he thought of her every time he did, and it made him feel a little closer to his pack. "Hey, Matilda?”

“Yes, hun?” She said with a smile.

“Can I buy one of your pies?” Derek said. “My pack would really like them.”

“Sure you can,” she said. “You should bring them in here sometime. We have lots to choose from.”

“I will,” Derek said, and he really thought he would. Now that he knew he was welcome, he’d be back as soon as he could.

***

Stiles only came into the drugstore for toothpaste and body wash. That was it, nothing else. He just happened to find himself in the family planning aisle, and came to a stop in front of the condoms.

He and Derek weren’t sleeping together. Well, they were, they shared a bed at least once a week now, but that was for actual sleep, not...other things. They were kissing now, downright making out sometimes, but that didn’t mean they needed to progress to...more.

_Sex,_ Stiles thought, berating himself. _If I can’t even think the word, I’m not ready to have it._ He didn’t know how he was supposed to tell if he was ready. He thought about it a lot, what it would feel like to have Derek touch him like that, to be able to touch Derek without worrying about having to pull back, calm down, cool off. 

His heat would come eventually. He had time, and Deaton had said that if he wasn’t ready, they could sedate him, but Stiles didn’t really want that. He was pretty sure he wanted to spend his heat with Derek. But he didn’t really want his first time to be when he was out of his mind with hormones and lust. Which meant they should do it before then.

Would Derek even want to? Stiles hadn’t really brought it up because he wasn’t sure he was ready, but what if Derek wasn’t into him that way? He seemed to be, if the marks of Stiles’ collarbone were anything to go by, but maybe he wanted to wait until Stiles was 18. It wasn’t that far off, but Stiles didn’t see the point. They were mates. There was nothing stopping them, so why shouldn’t they be together?

Resolved, Stiles decided to pick a box, then stalled all over again. Why were there so many to choose from? What size was he supposed to get? Why the hell would he want them to warm up? 

After choosing the most average box he could find, he grabbed the toothpaste he’d come in for, then headed for the checkout, where he reached another road block. The cashier would see what he was buying and she’d _know_.

Stiles sighed, and reminded himself that he was a mature individual who could buy whatever he wanted. He smiled as he put his purchases on the counter, and the teenager barely spared him a glance.

The bleat of his ringtone made him jump a foot in the air. He glanced at his father's name on the screen and muttered, “How does he know?” before shoving it back in his pocket. Instead of leaving a message, his dad called him again, then again as Stiles was paying, so he fished his phone back out with an apologetic look at the cashier, who was bagging his purchases. “What’s up?”

“Stiles, you need to get to the station right now.”

“Why?” Stiles said, taking his bag quickly.

“Deucalion was being transported today. He killed a guard and got loose, they don’t know where he’s headed, but--”

“You think he’ll come after us?” Stiles asked. “Should I call my friends?”

“I’ve got them all accounted for and secured, you’re the only one alone,” the Sheriff said. “Where are you? Do you need me to get you?”

“No, I’m almost at my jeep, I’ll be there soon,” Stiles said. “Call Derek, okay? Tell him--”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said a cultured voice. Stiles wasn’t hit with his own carburetor this time, but the world went just as black. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha that was probably a mean spot to leave off. Worry not! I'll post the final chapter tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

***

Stiles wasn’t sure if it was better to regain consciousness alone instead of tied up with his friends. If they weren’t here, that meant they were probably safe, but it also meant he was on his own for getting out. His head was pounding and everything spun when he tried to open his eyes. 

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Deucalion said. “I was starting to think I’d have to wake you myself.”

The room around them looked similar to the warehouse he’d been held in before: Dirty and industrial. The windows were so caked in grime, little light came through and it was impossible to see anything outside. Stiles was chained against a wall, and a pipe of some kind was digging into his back.

“Actually, I’m still pretty tired,” Stiles said. “I should probably get some more rest.”

Deucalion yanked the chain that wound around Stiles’ body, letting it cut into his skin. “Don’t try to be cute with me, omega. Let’s cut to the chase. We’ll call your pack.”

His stomach roiled as he thought of Derek and his betas. “I don’t have a pack.” Stiles had never formally accepted a place in Derek’s pack. Sure, he was treated like a member, treated like family, but that didn’t make them pack, not yet.

“Stupid boy,” Deucalion snarled. “McCall is your alpha. A motley group of children, but a pack nonetheless. Gaining a reputation of power through sheer dumb luck.”

Everything inside Stiles recoiled at the idea that anyone but Derek was his alpha. He understood the distinction between the alpha of a werewolf pack, and an omega’s alpha, but he hated it. He belonged to Derek, but he wasn’t about to tell Deucalion he was wrong. 

He watched helplessly as Deucalion used his phone to call Scott. He could barely hear Scott’s panicked voice on the line and it cut off as Deucalion started listing demands. As if Scott could arrange a goddamn helicopter for Deucalion’s grand escape.

Scott must have given the same protest because Deucalion smiled, “You’ll have to if you want to see the omega alive.” He hung up the phone and smiled at Stiles. “Let’s give him a little incentive, shall we?”

Stiles screamed as his claws dug into his ribs.

***

Derek stared at Stiles’ empty jeep and tried not to fall apart, but his whole world was shattering. Again.

“We’ll get him back,” Cora kept saying. Over and over, “We’ll get him back.” But Derek didn’t know how. They didn’t even know where to start.

He could hear the Sheriff too, at the edge of his consciousness, giving orders, demanding results. He was a good alpha. Better than Derek.

Erica was crying, but she wouldn’t leave. Derek could feel Isaac shaking and he wasn’t sure if it was physical or emotional. Boyd, silent Boyd, was solid as a rock, but his sorrow ran deep.

“We’ll get him back,” Cora said again.

“How?” Isaac asked, barely holding on to his human form as he watched Scott cling to Allison for his own control while he gripped the phone in his hands, looking lost and angry. “We don’t know where to look for him.”

The scream was felt more than heard. It ripped through Derek like a knife, and he didn’t think, he just started running.

Cora shouted after him, and Scott was running close behind, but Derek couldn’t stop, couldn’t tell the Sheriff what was happening, couldn’t breath. 

He just ran. And prayed the rest would follow.

***

Stiles panted as Deucalion removed his claws from his ribs.

“That will get them moving,” Deucalion said. “Just a little motivation to get me what I want.”

“Why would Scott do anything for you?” Stiles said. “Why the hell would he just hop to your bidding?”

“It’s easy to convince people to bend to your will when you have something important to them,” Deucalion said.

“You mean like when you took something from Derek Hale?” Stiles said. “Right. That worked out well for you. The second you lost your bargaining chip, Derek’s pack turned on you.”

“That was a unique situation,” Deucalion growled. “I hadn’t anticipated that you’d go into heat. Had he not been so protective of you, we could have turned the tide in our favour.”

Stiles snorted. “If you couldn’t get the best of them then, what makes you think you can now?”

Deucalion cut off Stiles’ air with a squeeze of his broad hand. “They don’t stand a chance against me. I’m the alpha of alphas. The Demon wolf. I’ll destroy them.” He let go just as abruptly as he’d started. “Hale could never overpower me again, and McCall couldn’t even try. The protective instinct is gone.”

Stiles thought of all the ways Derek showed he cared. Resting a hand on Stiles’ back as they crossed the street, insisting Stiles take his jacket at the slightest breeze, always sleeping between him and the door, just in case. Derek never explained these things, but it was clear as day, Derek’s protective instinct was stronger than ever.

“Is that so?” Stiles said, voice hoarse. His head was still spinning, and his stomach turned, but he started to laugh. He’d made it very clear to Derek that he didn’t want to lay blame on anyone for their mating bond. He didn’t want the circumstances it was formed under to cause tension between them. But deep down, he knew that Deucalion was the root of it. He was the one that orchestrated their kidnapping. If he hadn’t, he and Derek could have gone years without meeting, if ever. But instead… “Oh, I really should thank you.”

Deucalion went very still. “What did you say?”

Stiles must be losing more blood than he thought because he felt downright giddy. “I said, thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better mate.”

The grimy window shattered, and Stiles flinched away from the glass flying toward them. He kept his eyes closed as he heard snarls and the thump of bodies colliding. He didn’t want to see who howled in triumph and who grunted in pain. He was terrified to open his eyes and see who’d gurgled their last breath, and who was still panting in the empty warehouse.

“Stiles? Are you alright?” Derek asked, and Stiles’ eyes flew open.

Derek stood next to Deucalion's prone form. He was still partially shifted, and covered in blood that matched the growing pool on the floor. “Hi,” Stiles said lamely.

“Don’t look at that,” Derek said, stepping closer to shield the body from view, and start breaking away the chains that held Stiles. “Stiles, are you okay?”

“He didn’t even know we were together. He didn’t realize that you’d come for me, that you’d have the strength to overpower him,” Stiles started babbling. “But I knew you’d come. Because I’m yours, right? I’m part of your pack, not Scott’s.”

“You're mine,” Derek agreed. “You’re part of both. The others are just behind me. You hear the siren?”

Stiles nodded, tears of relief stinging his eyes. Derek managed to free him of the chains, but Stiles’ legs gave out. Derek scooped him up and carried him out. Stiles hid his face in Derek’s neck, ignoring the tacky texture of drying blood on Derek’s skin. “Derek? Did someone get my bag? From the store?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said. “We can replace it.”

Stiles gave a long, defeated moan. “No, Derek, I don’t wanna have to buy condoms again. The cashier was judging me.”

Derek lurched to an abrupt halt.

“Well, that’s what every father wants to hear,” The Sheriff said with a long-suffering sigh.

“Dad?” Stiles was too dizzy still to feel embarrassed. He wiggled out of Derek’s hold and launched himself into his father’s waiting arms. “Hi, Dad.”

“You okay, kiddo?” His dad asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Been a lot better. I think Deucalion is dead. Or in severe need of medical assistance.”

“He’s dead,” Derek confirmed. “Sheriff, I… Yeah, he’s dead.”

“I see,” the Sheriff said. “Stiles, he took you against your will right? Without the permission of you or your alpha.”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles said, trying not to slur his words. His dad had his Sheriff voice on.

The Sheriff pulled back to look him in the eyes, holding him steady by his shoulders. “And he held you under physical and emotional duress?”

“Definitely,” Stiles said, nodding too vigorously and making his head spin.

“Then it’s very clear that Derek acted in defence of his mate.” The Sheriff said. “Any idiot knows you don’t get between an alpha and his omega. Especially when that alpha is a werewolf.”

“Great,” Stiles said, offering a half hearted smile. “I’m gonna pass out now.”

“Shit,” Derek said, but caught him before he hit the ground.

***

There was always a point in any hospital visit where the injury was sufficiently healed enough that Stiles could think clearly, as himself again, but he wasn’t healed enough to get up and move around or, more importantly, be released from the hospital.

Stiles was at that point now, and it was incredibly, mind-numbingly boring.

He lit up when Derek walked into his hospital room. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Derek said, but his attention was still focused on the hallway he’d come from. His face held a bewildered expression that made Stiles want to pinch his cheeks.

“What’s up?” Stiles asked instead. “You look...suspicious? Confused?”

“It’s just been…” Derek lowered himself into the chair next to Stiles bed carefully. “I was running some errands today. Someone held the door for me at the hardware store when my hands were full. And then I went to grab some groceries, and there was only one box of strawberries left, and the lady let me have it. The cashier called a bagboy over to help me pack my things, and then I realized I left my wallet in the car. She just set it all aside while I went to get it.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, not really seeing what the big deal was. Those were all pretty nice things to happen, but also pretty standard.

“On my way inside, one of the nurses stopped to talk to me. She asked about Erica and thanked me for helping her.” Derek looked at Stiles pointedly, but Stiles just shrugged. “Stiles, one of the nurses talked to me and it wasn’t Melissa.”

“That’s really great, Derek,” Stiles said. “But I don’t really get the big deal. People are being nice to you.”

“Exactly!” Derek pushed out of the chair. “Why? What the hell? I just killed a man, Stiles. And now suddenly everyone is smiling at me and fucking _waving_ in the street. I’ve had so many calls for jobs that Cora took my phone and said she didn’t trust me to schedule it all. I have work for the next 3 months!”

Stiles waited to make sure that Derek was finished before he replied. “Derek, you keep saying all of that stuff like it's a bad thing. It’s not, right? To have people hiring you and being nice?”

Derek fumbled over his words for a minutes, then said, “Well, no.”

“Okay, so, there’s nothing to worry about,” Stiles assured him. “Now, back up for a minute. Derek, you didn’t kill a man. You killed Deucalion, a dangerous, manipulative, power-hungry scumbag, who kidnapped and hurt me.”

Derek’s fists clenched at his sides, and after another bout of struggling for the right words, he just nodded. 

Stiles reached toward him, making grabby motions with his hands until Derek moved close enough that Stiles could pull him up onto the bed with him. “You deserve to have people be nice to you. You deserve to be happy.”

“I just didn’t think-- After last summer, I--” Derek tucked himself against Stiles’ side.

“You’ve redeemed yourself,” Stiles said. “Tenfold. They would have gotten there eventually. Saving me from Deucalion just sped things up a little. Now the whole town knows what I have for months.”

“And what’s that?” Derek said raising his suspicious gaze to meet Stiles’.

“That you are an amazing alpha, and you’d do anything for your pack and your mate.”

Derek smiled. “That wasn’t a secret.”

“No,” Stiles agreed. “But now it's common knowledge.”

“Oh, god, you’re not kissing, are you?” Cora said as she sailed into the room. “Please, spare us.”

“Ew,” Scott said, nose wrinkled.

“Yum,” Erica said, with a lecherous smile. Boyd cuffed her over the head.

“Stiles, we brought you a couple of books so you won’t get bored tonight,” Allison said, brandishing two paperbacks.

Lydia dropped a stack of papers on his bed tray. “We also brought homework. You’re doing that first. Can’t have you falling behind, I need a little competition to keep me amused.”

“I’ll give you a run for your money,” Cora said, bumping her hip against Lydia’s. “But first, you need to talk me through that godawful physics class.”

Stiles watched the two packs blend together with Derek still pressed against his side. They’d start fighting again soon, but for now it was nice. Something to work toward. Something to look forward to. 

*********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta [ChloeWeird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWeird) for all her help.


End file.
